From Bottom to Surface
by Zzee
Summary: Sequel to Red Eye. One year after the event, Lisa is a lot better, but far from completely well. And of course, things start to turn ...
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note:**_ This is going to be a fairly long story and I need to get all the exposition out of the way first. Please bear with me, thanks :-)

**Chapter 1**

"Happy first alternate birthday!" her father cheered and raised his iced vodka strawberry shot. Lisa smiled and toasted back. The others - her mom, Cynthia and Jay – laughed a "Hip, hip, hooray!" and lifted their glasses as well. They were a motley bunch, Lisa thought.

She was sitting between her mother and father. Somewhere along the line her mother, meanwhile remarried, had rediscovered her inner Southern Belle and was wearing her flashy outfit with zest and pride.

Her father, on the other hand, looked suave in his dark suit. Mr. Reisert had started dating again recently. Lisa suspected that now she herself was getting better, her father also felt comfortable enough to be more involved in his own life rather than hers. They still talked a lot on the phone, but not nearly as much as they used to.

Both her parents had displayed their best behavior during dinner. You could tell they had a long history together and that not all of said history had been a barrel of laughs, but they were getting a lot better at talking. Almost like friends who had lost touch and now tried to reconnect after a long, long time.

Across the table sat Cynthia, smiling and her eyes bright with giggles. Secretly, Lisa sometimes compared her to a butterfly … who knew that this shy and timid caterpillar of a girl would turn into such a confident, perky and capable young woman? Cynthia now held Lisa's old position as floor manager at the Lux Atlantic while Lisa herself had been promoted to assistant of the general manager, quite a spectacular move for someone so young.

Next to Cynthia, Jay – another coworker at the Lux Atlantic - was fiddling with his empty shot glass and every so often, stole the occasional glance at Mr. Reisert ("I LIVE for silver foxes, darling!"). Jay liked to call himself "the token gay guy every girl needs nowadays" and, together with Cynthia, was the closest friend in the whole wide world to Lisa.

Right after she had told off the Taylors in the hotel lobby exactly one year ago to the day, Lisa had suddenly found all thought and strength beginning to drain from her until she felt like an empty shell too weak to think or talk or even stand. Cynthia had more or less dragged her to the nearest bathroom, meeting Jay on the way by coincidence, who, without asking a single question, had helped carry the barely conscious Lisa and locked the door behind them.

It was in this very bathroom that a new Lisa was born. She could hardly remember what was said, but Lisa had poured out her life's story, screaming, crying, vomiting, purging herself of the last couple of years since the rape all the way through that horrific night aboard the plane from Dallas to Miami.

There was something to be said for those hotel management courses, because throughout the hours, various people had knocked on the door wanting to talk to Lisa. It was Cynthia and Jay who politely, but effectively, fended them all off – no, help wasn't needed and no, Lisa Reisert was definitely not available for questioning. Cynthia had later told her that she didn't think they would have been able to get through with it if it hadn't been for Keefe himself who gave out the order that Lisa Reisert was to be left alone for the time being.

So apart from selected government officials and police, only four other people knew about the night of the red eye flight and had been sworn to secrecy: Lisa's parents, Cynthia and Jay. The terrorists and their employer had been apprehended, tried and sentenced to death by their own government which had issued an official statement of deepest regret and sincere apologies to the American people in general and the Keefe family in particular. The American government in turn graciously accepted the apology on behalf of the American people and the Keefes - together with oil drilling rights. Diplomatic relations resumed and all was well in the jungle.

As for Lisa's role in the whole mess … she played none. Officially, the hotel had been tipped off by an anonymous caller, thus rendering her and her loved ones invisible to the public eye. Keefe had spun it that in the greater scheme of things, Lisa Reisert – and Jackson Rippner – didn't exist, something she was eternally grateful for.

"Allright, it's time for presents!" Cynthia reached into her purse and produced a little package wrapped in blue. "This is from me and Jay."

Lisa blushed. "You shouldn't have … "

"Aw, shut up and open it!"

Laughing, Lisa unwrapped a shirt in an incredibly loud neon colour hitherto unknown to man that said TC FOREVER AND EVER. "TC" stood for "Tough Cookie", a nickname Jay had coined in one of those long nights with Cynthia and Lisa in the aftermath of the red eye flight. At the time, Lisa hadn't been sure what to think of it, but she didn't have much say in the matter. The name had stuck and now everybody but her parents called her TC.

"My turn." Her father's voice brought her back to reality and she took the envelope he handed to her.

"Oh, it's a gift certificate!"

"For?"

Lisa giggled. "For a piece of furniture AND a ritualistic burning of all the Dr. Phil books he gave me."

A month ago, Lisa had moved into a small, two-room-appartment on the top floor in downtown Miami and had sold most of her old furniture in favor of new stuff. She had wanted a new start with new things to surround her when she came home from work at night.

Also, instead of browsing through Dr. Phil books, she now went to real therapy once a week. After the initial dread of having to open herself up to a complete stranger and trying to juggle being open without giving out classified information, she found herself getting better each month. Of course, Lisa did not tell the therapist about Jackson Rippner – classified – but mostly talked to Cynthia and Jay about him. Payment was a round of drinks in the weekly cocktail run with her friends that had become a much cherished tradition.

"Allright, allright, allright, now for mine!" Her mother's manicured hands pushed a little jewellery box across the table. It contained a simple, yet beautiful ring, platinum with a small, sparkling diamond.

"It's nana's ring, you know. When she was … when it was close to the end … Duke gave it to her. She told me he said it was for the most formidable woman he ever met." Delicately, she slipped the ring on her daughter's trembling finger. "Honey, if anybody should be allowed to wear that after your grandmother, it's you."

And with a sigh she added, "Fine then. Before it turns into a complete sob fest, I think we should break this party off. Are you kids doing anything tonight?"

It was Cynthia who regained her composure first. "Nope, need to be fit for tomorrow." Lisa hadn't been the only one changed by that night one year ago.

"Why, what's tomorrow?"

"It's tasteless movie day. Tomorrow we shall watch the entire American Pie series and get high on junk food."

"Hear, hear! Our motto: if you can't feel your arteries clogging up, it's just not worth it." Jay's smile could have lit up a small village as he eyed the cute waiter who presented the check to Lisa's mom.

"Mom, let me!" Lisa grabbed her purse.

"Nonsense! Spend that money on some clothes - Lord knows I have seen that little navy outfit way too many times."

"Mom!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Lisa unlocked the door to her appartment and after a split second of standing absolutely still, pushed it open and stepped inside. During the first few weeks after the red eye flight, she had sometimes spent minutes staring at the door while trying to muster up the courage to enter her home.

The reflection in the hallway mirror looked back at her with pensive eyes. Absentmindedly Lisa touched her hair which she now wore in a short bob barely long enough to tuck the bangs behind her ears.

----------

_For the third time this week Cynthia and Jay had come over to spend the evening with her and yet again, Lisa found herself unable to stop talking about Jackson Rippner. It was like a rut she could not for the life of her break out of. Compulsively, she had to keep going through the motions from facts to feelings to miniscule details that made her angry._

"_You know, this whole thing reminds me of a bad breakup," Cynthia pondered. Noticing the incredulous look Lisa shot her, she quickly added, "Think about it. You meet a guy who seems nice and funny and interesting only to find yourself heart- broken and angry in the end… just on a much larger scale."_

_Jay perked up, "Been there, done that. Great guys turned evil is the story of my life. Now, what do we do after a bad breakup? We shop and we get a new haircut and we get hammered out of our minds. TC, honey, you have got yourself a date."_

_The following Saturday Lisa watched thick, auburn strands drop to the floor and with the weight of her hair, Jackson Rippner's weight on her mind seemed to ease up a little, as well. _

_----------_

Lisa could tell this was going to be one of those bad nights. With the support of her family and friends she had come far, farther than she had actually thought she ever would, but she still had a long way to go. Sometimes she wondered if she was ever going to make it.

It was impossible to look into her apartment from the outside, yet she always kept the blinds drawn and her windows shut. There was the constant struggle not to fall back into the old traps of denial and overcompensation through her job. Dating was out of the question, she had tried it, but it never worked out. Lisa was having a hard enough time with letting – and keeping – her guard down with the people she KNEW cared about her … with strangers, it was still too hard. Lesson learned, thank you very much.

She lay in her bed and stared at the ceiling. Life had a funny way of painfully flicking your ear. Lisa had tried so unbelievably hard to live nana's motto of "always move forward", but it had taken a terrorist to make her see she was lying to herself. In truth, nana's motto had been "deal with it and move forward". And dealt with him she had, now for the moving forward.

On good nights, Lisa drifted off to sleep relatively quickly after the relaxation exercises her therapist had recommended and didn't wake up once. On bad nights like this one, however, she snapped awake at 3 a.m. to the feeling of being slowly suffocated.

Lisa tried to fight it for a while, but eventually gave in and got out of bed. She paced the apartment, back and forth, back and forth, trying to shake the memory of cold blue eyes that burned into her. Faster and faster, sounds and fragments hammered against her skull in a terrifying whirly reel until she thought she might burst from the pressure.

"Leese …"

Blinding pain, darkness.

"Well, suck it up."

A car smashing through a glass door.

"We'll talk again."

The thud of her body crashing to the floor.

"We'll talk again."

No. NO. They wouldn't talk again. Jackson Rippner was dead.

----------

"_Ms. Reisert, thank you for your time." Keefe shook her hand and waited politely at the doorstep until she mentioned for him to come in. One bodyguard accompanied him inside, the other kept his post at the door._

_Once they were settled in the living room in her old apartment, a month after she had saved his and his family's life, the Chief of Homeland Security leaned forward and looked her straight in the eye. "I'll come right to the point. Jackson Rippner has died last night from complications of his internal injuries. I wanted to tell you in person."_

_It was as if someone had wiped Lisa clear of all thought and emotion. Reflexes still worked, though, as she managed a flat "thank you" after a few seconds._

"_He didn't regain consciousness except for brief periods and even then he wasn't much help. He could hardly talk." Keefe smiled warmly, with just the faintest touch of grim satisfaction. He lightly touched her arm before he pulled out a file and a note. _

"_Ms. Reisert … I don't know if this helps. It might … for closure. Rippner's body was cremated and the ashes buried in an unmarked grave at the State Penitentiary. This is a pass with directions, if you ever feel you want to go."_

_Mechanically, Lisa took the piece of paper and starting toying with its edges._

"_And this is the official notification of death I received. Would you like to …?" This time, he didn't hand her the file, but waited until she reached for it._

_Lisa's eyes scanned the document: size, weight, particular characteristics. A lot of medical jargon that she did not comprehend except for "appendectomy scar". _

_----------_

It was always this "appendectomy scar" that seemed to pave the way back into a quieter state of mind in those restless nights. Jackson Rippner hadn't been a devil, he hadn't been all powerful and invincible. He had been human and she had beaten him.

Two weeks after Keefe had told her, Lisa and her father had visited the site. Side by side they had looked down at grave number 312, each caught in their own world for what seemed like hours.

Finally, her father's gaze rested on her. "How do you feel?"

"I want a headstone." Lisa's voice had been raw, broken. "I want a headstone that says 'Here lies Jackson Rippner, definitely dead and can never come back'." Tears in her eyes, spilling over her cheeks, but she hadn't noticed. "I want to claw through the earth, rip open that urn and run my fingers through his ashes. THIS is how I feel."

For a few more minutes they had stared at the ground until her father carefully, tenderly enwrapped her in a hug.

The next day, Lisa had started therapy.

And now here she was. A year after the red eye flight at 5 a.m. in the morning, Lisa felt the trembling subside slowly. It was like diving up from the bottom of the ocean, choking and flailing, sounds becoming distinctive, seeing the light dance from above until she was back at the surface, gasping for air.

With a quiet sigh she turned off all the lights and crept back into bed - at least she hadn't pigged out on scrambled eggs this time. The thought seemed to travel from her brain straight into her stomach which growled in return.

Damnit!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

After a couple of hours of sleep, Lisa awoke to the sound of the doorbell ringing. Shit! She had slept right through her alarm.

"I'm sorry, make yourself comfortable while I take a quick shower."

Jay looked her over. "Bad night? You wanna talk about it?"

"No thanks, I'm paying you guys enough drinks as it is. Be back in a second."

He trailed her to the bathroom. "You know, one of these days you'll have to answer that question with 'No. I had wild premarital sex with some random guy I picked up at the club last night.' or else this whole thing will get boring."

Lisa giggled. "Out!"

Half an hour later Cynthia arrived ("Sorry, but there's this new girl at the reception and she keeps calling me.") with their supplies for the day and the three settled on the couch.

Cynthia watched her cell suspiciously as if she was willing it not to ring anymore while Jay snatched the remote. Lisa leaned back into the soft cushions and ran her fingers through her wet hair. The terrors of last night seemed far away, the sun was shining and her friends made her laugh even more so than the movies did.

Several hours later, Cynthia threw the box of cookies back on the table. "I cannot eat another one or I'm going to hurl. Hey, I'm surprised your father didn't call after that important anniversary yesterday." With a sigh she picked up the box again. "Last one. Can't stop! Ah!"

"No, he's trying to hold back." Lisa cursed under her breath. Next time she would brush and blowdry her hair right away.

"How do you know?" Jay was stretched out on the floor, going for full overeater's drama.

"My mom told me he told her. She also told me that I should tell her if he didn't. Then she'd tell him to stop."

"That's an awful lot of telling."

Cynthia's phone rang. "You know," she said rolling her eyes, "one of these days I'm going to tell HER to stop." She pressed a button. "Hi Carly. What's going on?" After listening for a few seconds, she whispered, "Allright, I need to leave, things are not going smoothly at the hotel."

Jay sat up and yawned. "Okay then, I'll leave as well. I need that beauty sleep, early shift tomorrow. Are you gonna be okay, TC?"

Lisa grinned. "If I say yes, will you believe me?"

Her friend gave her a peck on the cheek and a slap on the butt. "Nope. But we're getting there."

Cynthia gave Lisa a hug. "Call me if you need anything."

"I will, thanks, you guys. Be careful driving, it's a full moon tonight. People go crazy."

Minutes later she was alone again in her appartment cleaning up the living room when the doorbell rang.

"What did you forget this time, Cy…" The words caught in her throat. In the hall stood Keefe, dressed in casual clothes instead of the usual suit. He looked slightly uncomfortable, Lisa noticed, even though he tried to hide it.

"Sir? Please come in." She also noticed that there were no bodyguards this time.

"Thank you, Ms. Reisert. How are you?"

His feeling of unease translated onto her as she eyed him curiously. "I'm doing well, actually. Can I offer you a drink?"

He seemed to ponder the question. Yes, something was definitely wrong. "No thanks, just some water will be fine."

As she turned towards the kitchen, Lisa couldn't help but ask, "Do I need a drink?"

That he didn't reply was answer enough. She slowly walked back to the couch and looked at him. "Mr. Keefe, I suspect you have bad news. I'd really prefer it if we got straight to it."

Lisa braced herself, but nothing could have prepared her for what came out of his mouth.

"Ms. Reisert, Jackson Rippner is alive and he would like to see you."

The glasses shattered on the floor. She flinched when she felt Keefe's hand on her arm, guiding her around the shards to the couch. "Please sit down, Ms. Reisert."

It took her another few moments to shake off the paralysis that seemed to have taken hold of her. "The grave." Lisa's voice was flat, barely a whisper.

"Pardon?"

"Grave number 312 at the State Penitentiary."

"Someone else. I am so sorry."

So they had lied to her. The knot in Lisa's stomach exploded into blinding anger that seeped into her body, flushing her cheeks that had looked so pale just seconds ago. Her muscles contracted and she clenched her hands in an effort to hold down the bile that was rising in her throat.

"And … he would like to see me?"

"I'm afraid so, yes."

"With all due respect, sir, there is no 'would like to' with Jackson Rippner. He _wants_ to see me. What I don't understand is why you would give in to him."

"Ms. Reisert, believe me when I say I feel terrible about this. Back then, I reckoned it would be better for you if you believed him dead. I never thought I would have to tell you the truth." Keefe's voice was apologetic, but matter-of-factly. At least he had the courtesy to spare her the flowery speeches. Lisa motioned for him to go on.

"When we found out how exactly you were connected to the attack on me and my family, we immediately took Jackson Rippner out of the hospital into our … care."

"Jackson Rippner is not his real name, is it?"

"No. But the name's not important, it's the person we're interested in."

"So the name stuck?"

"Yes."

No point in hiding from herself. Lisa surrendered to the memories that came back to her one by one. "Call him Jack, he doesn't like that."

She wasn't looking at Keefe, but she still heard the grin in his voice when he said, "Yeah, we know."

"You know, that man ripped my world apart."

"I realize that." Keefe's hands fiddled with a shard he had picked off the floor. "And I'm no fan, either, to say the least."

----------

_Washington, present time._

_He sat in his cell on that little bed that was uncomfortable as hell and stared into space. His body was rigid and his face was motionless, but it was the flicker of his eyes that gave him away. _

_Jackson Rippner was nervous. _

_If everything went according to plan, Keefe would be sitting down with Leese at this very moment, dropping the bomb. A faint smile touched the corners of his mouth as he rose and walked over to the window. Full moon, how fitting._

_----------  
_

Lisa got up and slowly walked towards the window, her eyes fixed on the moon.

"Allright, I'm listening."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

„Ms. Reisert, terrorist managers are a relatively new phenomenon. Up until a while ago, terrorism was solely in the hands of fanatics, zealots. These people are actually invested in their cause, thus prone to making mistakes when they become desperate."

Lisa wasn't sure whether it was good for her to hear all this. At the same time, she felt she needed to. Leaning on the wall next to the window, she asked, "What changed?"

"Acts of terror that failed because of that. Also, people nowadays are much more suspicious of certain ethnic groups or nationalities."

"Something your department is fairly happy about, isn't it?"

"To a certain extent, yes, to be quite frank." The transition from Keefe, the family man, to Keefe, the Chief of Homeland Security, was smooth. "The point is, specific groups are checked thoroughly and watched over. Not only by our government, but by everybody – people like you and me." In fact, the only other person Lisa had ever known who could switch personalities that fast was Jackson Rippner.

Keefe continued, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort. "But that nice American business man? Who would look twice at him, suspect him of anything? You know that better than anyone else."

The Tex-Mex. God, he had been charming. Accessible. Funny. In a matter of mere minutes, he had cracked her and lowered her defenses.

"Ms. Reisert, be very, very honest to yourself now. When you were on that plane and, say, somebody who clearly wasn't American had been sitting next to you … don't you think things would have gone differently if you had just given the slightest notion of distress?"

Lisa loathed to admit it, but he was right. The flight attendant had just assumed that she and that friendly man belonged together and not asked a single question. She looked at Keefe and nodded with burning eyes.

His voice softened. "I know this is much to take. Unfortunately, my abilities to protect you are limited."

It was like a car crash, Lisa knew she shouldn't look, but she couldn't help it. She was literally drawn closer to it as she crossed the room to the couch and sat down. "I guess I understand."

"We have become aware that coordination and frontline organization has increasingly been taken over by so-called managers. Only we have never been able to catch one alive."

"So now you do and … what?"

"We study him, get information."

"Like an extraterrestrial you would probe to see if they're dangerous? Hostile?"

"That is an oversimplification, but in a nutshell, yes."

"Let me save you some trouble right there. Jackson Rippner is definitely dangerous and absolutely hostile." She really, really didn't want to ask. "Where do I come in?"

Keefe shot her an admiring glance. "We have found that he is a lot more forthcoming if we give in every once in a while."

"_Forthcoming_! You are _asking_ him for information? Does it really take a civilian like me to suggest, I don't know, torture? Mind drugs? Whatever the hell … Hypnosis? If you are telling me that my life is being spit on because you don't want to pressure a terrorist, this conversation is over!"

Her body was so tense, it actually hurt.

"Rest assured, Ms. Reisert, we do pressure him. A lot. The thing is, Jackson Rippner is a rare talent. We have gotten everything from him we could with methods I don't want to get into, but there is still a lot to learn."

For the fraction of a second, Lisa had the mental image of Jackson sitting in a cage - with Keefe and his men dressed in corduroy pants and lab coats, standing around him and poking him with sticks. Her body started shaking with silent laughter that turned shrill when hysteria kicked in. It threatened to throw her into a dark pit in her mind she was afraid she might not get out of.

_Breathe._ She forced herself to focus on her surroundings, the furniture she had bought, the pictures on the wall. _Breathe._ Christmas with dad. Mom's wedding. Road trip with Jay and Cynthia. _No hold on me._ Therapy sessions. Laughter. _Breathe._

Keefe silently waited for her to regain her composure. He watched her struggle until her body grew limp and the gasps for air turned into steady breath. For a long time, she sat opposite him with her lids closed and her hands balled into fists. When she looked at him again he was momentarily taken aback by the strange light in her eyes.

"So," Lisa's voice was cold, "he has information you want and you agreed to give him me in exchange?"

"Ms. Reisert, there is no question of giving you to him. He just wants to see you."

Lisa stalked over to the wall and ripped off a picture that she threw down on the desk in front of Keefe. "Give him this."

Cynthia had taken the picture on a road trip to a music festival a couple of weeks ago. She remembered it well … it had been raining all the time, but the weather was hot as hell anyway. Her friend had captured the perfect moment: Lisa wore jeans and a t-shirt that were caked with mud, her short hair was blowing in the wind and with the biggest smile on her face, she flipped off Jay, right into the camera.

Keefe briefly smiled at the picture, before his face returned to a more somber expression. "My bad, Ms. Reisert. He wants to see you face to face. Talk to you."

"Oh God." Lisa dropped back down onto the couch, running her fingers through her hair. "This can't be happening. I don't want to do this."

"I understand you don't want to do this. As a friend, _I_ don't want you to do this. But I think we both know I'm not here as a friend and that what we could achieve is more important than anything else." His tone became urgent. "Ms. Reisert, Jackson Rippner can do you no harm."

A long moment passed.

"IF I do it, if I go down there and visit Jackson Rippner, can you guarantee me it'll be over?"

"No," he sighed. Finally, even Keefe, Chief of Homeland Security, appeared to have reached his personal limit.

She just couldn't believe it. "I'm too good an opportunity to pass up?"

"Ms. Reisert, you seem to be the closest thing to a weak spot this guy has. Hell if I know why - although I'm beginning to understand - but that's the simple truth of the matter."

It was over, she just couldn't take any more. "I need you to leave."

"Ms. Reisert …"

"Now. I need you to leave."

"Ms. Reisert, please give it a thought. Call me when you're ready."

Mechanically, she took his card. It reminded her of another moment she had felt so empty, all those months ago when he had handed her the directions to Jackson Rippner's supposed grave.

Halfway out the door, he turned around again. "I don't need to tell you this is confidential, right?"

One of life's little ironies, wasn't it? After all this time and all those therapy sessions learning to let other people in, she was forced to cut them out again. A year ago, she hadn't been able to imagine sharing her pain with anybody else, but now the thought of having to go through it alone scared her more than anything.

"Good bye, Mr. Keefe."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Another one of those nights, only this time Lisa wasn't able to sleep at all.

As soon as the first signs of a fullblown panic attack rattled her, she wished she was back in that comatose emotional state she had been in since Keefe left. Lisa could tell this was going to be bad.

When morning dawned, she found herself leaning against the bathroom wall. Her body felt as if it had been hit by a bulldozer but still, her memories gave her no peace. Slowly, Lisa hauled herself off the floor and got in the shower. She felt filthy and the water wasn't hot enough. Only when the pain finally found a way through to her brain did she notice that the water was actually scalding and that patches of her skin had been scrubbed raw.

How would she be able to get through this day? She had to go to work. Part of her wanted to stay in the safety of her own walls, while the old Lisa screamed to get out and do something, to exhaust herself until she was too tired to think.

In the end, she decided to stay at home. Jay and Cynthia would immediately see that something was wrong and Lisa knew she didn't have the strength to lie. If truth be told, she didn't have the strength to do anything. She wrapped herself in her bathrobe and curled up in bed.

Hours went by while she forced herself to relive the ordeal on that red eye flight and the months afterwards up until last night. Whenever it was too hard, she went on anyway, repeating the words "appendectomy scar" like a silent prayer.

Lisa also thought of her grandmother. "Deal with it and move forward." The situation aboard Fresh Air had been the first one she had dealt with head-on since the rape. The funny thing about hitting rock bottom – and she had certainly hit hers in that small airplane bathroom – was that if you were lucky, you realized it could only get better. There was a strange comfort in that thought, no matter how bad you felt. Back then, she had risked all, her life, her father's, for protecting someone else. Could she do it again? Could she risk finding herself back at rock bottom for protecting someone else?

----------

_Washington, present time._

_Jackson heard foot steps approach his cell. Marc Whitley, Keefe's chief dungeon master, judging from the slight limp. Whitley was about his age and just as ambitious._

"_You know the drill, Rippner."_

_Jackson stuck his hands through the hole in the door and felt cold metal snap around his wrists. He took a few steps back and waited for the door to open._

"_News for me, Whitley?"_

"_As a matter of fact, I do." Whitley just smiled at him, that smug smile Jackson hated so much._

"_Whenever you're ready, Marc. I'll just sit down." He turned away._

"_She's not coming."_

_For a moment, Jackson thought he might scream. He was grateful that his back was turned to the other man, this way he could focus on keeping a relaxed posture while grinding his teeth._

_Whitley took a few steps around him until they were face to face. "Disappointed, Jackie?"_

_The bastard._

"_You see, Rippner, Keefe was impressed. She has a whole new life, is close to her family and friends, has a better position at the same hotel. She is over you … way ahead of you, boy, I might add."_

"_Good for her, bad for you."_

"_Naw, not really. Keefe has ordered some more … tests." Whitley took yet another step closer to him until Jackson could feel the other man's breath on his face. "I must say I'm looking forward to that."_

"_I suppose you would. Hasn't helped you much so far, though, has it?" _

_Whitley looked him over for a few more moments. Jackson just stood there, handcuffed, his legs slightly apart and his face relaxed, as if nothing could hurt him. Which wasn't true - Whitley knew that for a fact - but faster than you could say "that son of a bitch" Rippner would flash his trademark shit eating grin again and annoy the hell out of everybody around._

"_Oh Jack. Jackie-boy. Have a nice afternoon."_

"_The same to you, Mr. Whitley, sir. And regards to the wife."_

_Whitley's eyes narrowed, he had never told Rippner he had a wife and he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. The bastard must have guessed._

_When the door closed behind him, Marc Whitley churned out the sweetest voice he was capable of. "By the way, Rippner. I was kidding."_

_Actual silence. Damn, that felt good._

"_About what?"_

"_I'll tell you tomorrow." That felt even better._

_----------_

"Dad, listen. I need to do this." Remembering Keefe's advice to always stick as close to the truth as possible, Lisa added, "Keefe has asked me to come to Washington for something involving what happened a year ago. … No, I can't tell you, I'm sorry."

She wasn't looking forward to having the same discussion with Jay or Cynthia. "Dad, please. Don't worry, okay? I'm gonna be okay and I mean that."

Her father sounded so worried, it broke Lisa's heart. "Lisa, I want you to call me when you get there. I want you to call me whenever you feel like it, day or night, I don't care. Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I need to go."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Call me!"

Lisa hung up the phone.

Once she had decided that she was actually going to go through with it, she had grown restless, angry even. She would deal with him before putting Jackson Rippner's ghost to rest once and for all.

What pissed Lisa off most, though, was the fact that for the last hour or so, she had been standing in front of her closet wondering what the hell you were supposed to pack for an appointment with your ex-kidnapper. In prison.

----------

_Washington, present time._

_Fine then._

_Whitley couldn't have been kidding about whether they'd interrogate him some more. Jackson knew that his cocky non-reaction to these taunts irritated the guy, so why put himself in that position. _

_Whitley also wouldn't have been kidding about Leese moving on. For all that idiot knew, Jackson wanted her to feel bad (which he did). He'd never do him the favor of telling him something good._

_That could only mean one thing. She was coming. _

_Jackson smiled._


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note:** Thanks to everybody for their kind reviews. Here's what you've all been waiting for grins

**Chapter 6**

„Welcome to Washington, Ms. Reisert." Keefe stood up and walked around the desk to shake her hand. "Thank you for coming."

Lisa gave a little sigh. "I guess you're welcome."

The Chief of Homeland Security introduced her to one of the bustling sharp-dressed clones that seemed to populate these corridors. "Ms. Reisert, this is Marc Whitley. Jackson Rippner is his main responsibility and he will take you to him."

She couldn't really pinpoint why, but Lisa felt uncomfortable in the other man's presence. The smile he gave her seemed genuine enough, but there was something slightly imposing about Marc Whitley.

"Ms. Reisert, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I must say, you are something of a celebrity around here." Whitley nodded at his superior. "Right away?"

"That's up to Ms. Reisert," Keefe answered.

"Right away. I'd prefer that." Lisa's hand instinctively went up to tuck at some strands of her hair when she sensed Whitley reach out to guide her from the office. She was fairly certain he had noticed as he shot her a quick glance, followed by what could have been a smile, could have been a smirk.

"Ms. Reisert, Jackson Rippner will be chained to a chair, there is no chance for him to touch you. I have personally checked his restraints, he is practically immobile."

Lisa looked at him. Yes, Marc Whitley seemed like the kind of guy who would be good at … restraining people. Probably rattled the chains a little, too.

Again, he appeared to know what was going on in her head. For a moment she thought he might address it, but his voice was neutral when he went on. "The meeting will be held in a special room with guards posted in front of the door and me in the next room behind a glass wall. You are entirely free to terminate the conversation at any time."

In silence they walked down several corridors until they arrived at a thick door flanked by two men in suits. Whitley put one hand on her back and the other one on the doorknob, politely ushering her towards the room.

"Wait." Lisa's eyes were fixed to the floor. Whitley folded his arms, took a step backwards and was about to give her an encouraging speech, no doubt, when she lifted her head. With her chin up, Lisa turned the knob and stepped into the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

"Hello Leese."

Jackson was slighter than she remembered, paler, and a dark bruise marked his cheek.

"Hello Jackson." She sat down, thankful for the table that separated them.

They regarded each other carefully for a few seconds and Lisa was determined not to be the first one to talk. Instead she concentrated on returning his blue-eyed gaze evenly. It took every ounce of strength she had not to fiddle and she felt a flash of anger that he could still affect her like that.

"You're awfully quiet."

"I came here because I was told you wanted to talk. So talk." Lisa was surprised at how indifferent she sounded.

"Jeans, turtleneck, sneakers … do you intend to do some running today?"

"No, it's comfortable."

"That's a beautiful ring you're wearing. A present?"

"Yes."

"Who gave it to you?"

"My mother."

Lisa realized that since they had started, she had been pressing her back into the chair. With a little shake of the head she leaned forward and rested her hands on the table, fingers entwined.

"Uncomfortable?"

"Yes."

"I like that new act of yours. Very defiant, in a less dramatic way. It suits your haircut."

Jackson's posture, on the other hand, had not changed at all. He sat very upright, the arms at his sides pulled back by restraints. It couldn't be anything short of uncomfortable, yet he gave off an air of relaxed confidence that irked Lisa. And just for good measure, Jackson winked at her.

"But the shirt that sticks out from underneath that conservative black turtleneck is a little loud, don't you think?"

"My friends gave it to me."

"I'm surprised you have any."

Lisa shrugged. "You'd be surprised about a lot of things."

"So I've heard."

Again, they lapsed into silence, studying each other until Lisa felt she had enough of their little game. "What do you want, Jackson?"

"I just want to talk to you." He sounded like a friendly neighbor offering to carry that bag of groceries.

She snorted in return. "You just want to talk to me?"

"Leese, when did I ever lie to …"

"Jackson, if you give me any of that 'I never lie to you'-bullshit, I'm going to clock you." Impatience radiated from her voice.

"Well, when did I?"

"Pretending to be someone you're not is just as much a lie as saying one out loud."

For the first time, he leaned back on his chair. "Point taken." He smiled. "Just for the sake of discussion, though, when did I pretend to be someone that I wasn't with you?"

Lisa just stared at him. Bastard!

He brought his voice down to a soothing whisper. "Answer me."

"The TexMex." It sounded angrier than she had intended it to do.

"Ah … good times. We had fun then, didn't we?" Perky. Amused. How did he do this?

"I'm asking you again. What is it you want, Jackson?"

"I already told you."

"I thought I had made myself clear when I answered that with a …" She snorted again.

"At the risk of repeating myself here … _I want to talk to you._ Know how you've been, what you've been doing. Just catch up."

Lisa gave a laugh that was devoid of all humor. "Allright then. I'm actually doing very well. I spend time with my parents and my friends. I was maid of honor at my mother's wedding. I got promoted. I go out. Satisfied?"

"Now we're getting somewhere, although I think you're leaving stuff out. Am I right?"

"That's none of your business." Lisa turned to the glass wall. "Mr. Whitley, you told me I could break this off at any time. Now is that time."

She looked back at Jackson. "Good bye."

He shot forward as far as he could and smirked when he noticed her taking the tiniest step back. "See ya around, Leese."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7  
**

„Ms. Reisert? Excuse me! Ms. Reisert!" Whitley was running after her, but she didn't feel like talking to him. Lisa didn't feel like talking to anybody right now. She yanked herself free as he tried to take her arm.

"Ms. Reisert, please." Whitley raised an eyebrow when Lisa just glared at him, her jaw set. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude, it's just that this whole building is classified. I can't let you walk alone. Don't worry, we don't have to talk, I'll just bring you back to the Chief."

"I take you by your word, Mr. Whitley."

He kept it. They walked without speaking and when they arrived at Keefe's office, he merely nodded at her and left after knocking on the door.

"Come in!"

Lisa entered and sat down. She had kept her cool in that stuffy interrogation room, but all the tension she felt inside needed a release soon. It was the old dive up from the bottom of the ocean. _Pull yourself together, you can do this._

"Do you need anything? Something to drink? A snack?" Keefe sounded worried and when Lisa caught a glimpse of herself in the window, she understood why. Her face was deathly pale and her whole body language screamed distress.

"No thank you. I would just like to have a moment by myself somewhere. Is there maybe a bathroom … ?" Her mind slid into memories and she bit down on her lip until she tasted blood.

Keefe squeezed her shoulder. "Please stay here. Let me know when you're ready."

The click of the door closing behind him opened the floodgates. Lisa hunched over as a wave of nausea rolled over her and pulled her under. She was flailing against the pain rushing at her, breath short and ragged. Yet this time, deep down, a little voice calmed her. _You are unhurt, unharmed. Nothing has changed._ Realization hit – even though Jackson Rippner was alive, she was actually okay. And not only was she okay, she was angry, angrier than she had been in a long time. She had let herself become a pawn in a game that she had never wanted to be a part of, with rules she couldn't fathom.

Whitley and Keefe waited outside and immediately stopped talking when she walked up to them.

"Is Rippner still in the room?"

"Yes, Ms. Reisert. Are you okay?"

"I am, thanks."

"Are you su…"

"Yes." She paused. "I would like to talk to him again. Please don't ask me whether I'm sure, I am."

The men regarded her with a mixture of surprise and barely concealed incredulity.

"One condition, though. This time I want no listeners." Lisa's voice was calm.

Whitley cut in, "Ms. Reisert, I'm afraid that's not possible."

Lisa looked at Keefe. "Sir, I have done much for you, I think I deserve to have one of my wishes fulfilled for a change."

Keefe put up his hand when Whitley opened his mouth to speak. "Wish granted. You understand I have to insist on a debriefing immediately afterwards."

"Fine by me."

"It's settled, then. Mr. Whitley, please take Ms. Reisert down to Rippner."

Whitley looked as if he had been slapped in the face. On their way back he tried to argue with her several times, but Lisa wouldn't bugde. He gestured for her to stay when they arrived at the door. "Wait here for a moment."

The guards were gone, which Lisa found a little odd until Whitley brought them out of the room with him two minutes later. He gave her a hard stare and shrugged. "There you go, Rippner's all yours."

In the meantime, Jackson had acquired another bruise on his cheek and his lip was bleeding. The look on his face before he was able to transform back into his old cool self told Lisa he hadn't expected her. Whitley obviously hadn't mentioned it, either.

"Leese … always good for a surprise."

"It's nice you remember." Lisa leaned forward on her chair, both hands flat on the table.

"And this time, she's cocky. What brought you back? I notice the adjoining room's empty ... where's Whitley?"

"I don't know. I wanted to do this in private." She played with her ring.

Jackson said nothing, but merely looked at her with an expression she found impossible to read.

"You see, Jackson, I don't want to play games anymore. You wanted to talk to me, fine, I'll talk to you. BUT … in return I want to know why and I want honesty."

"It's a pity you don't want to play games, they -"

Lisa interrupted his little sing-song dryly, cool. "They are all you got left, I know."

If her voice was dry, his' was the Sahara Desert. "Don't do this, Leese, don't think you're over me. And don't think for a second that I'm helpless."

"What is it you want, Jackson?"

"I told you. Several times, actually, but you just don't seem to get it."

"You want to talk to me, but why?"

"To see how you are."

"I don't believe you."

"That's your problem."

It was like a tennis match. For a while, they kept slamming words back and forth in a heated exchange, but it got them nowhere. Lisa grew edgy.

"What is it, Jack, huh?"

"Don't call me that, Leese."

"What is it? Just tell me."

"Don't be a spoilsport, relax."

She stood up so quickly, her chair fell over backwards. With slow, deliberate steps Lisa walked around the table to his chair. Jackson followed her with his eyes narrowed and she got a rush from knowing that he was just as much at a loss as she had been.

Another step closer. Her legs touched his knees.

It took all her strength, but when Lisa bent towards him and pulled down his shirt with her finger to touch the scar on his neck, she wasn't trembling and her voice was steady.

"Someone do that to you?"

She could see he remembered.

"Is that what it is?"

He didn't react at all how she would have expected. No anger, no spiteful remark, no smirk. Instead, Jackson leaned his head back as if to grant her easier access and looked straight at her. Then he laughed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8  
**

It threw her and she knew he could tell that it threw her.

"Sit down, Leese."

So she had hit home after all - Jackson's voice sounded slightly strained as if he too was struggling with emotion. It gave Lisa enough courage to sit down on the table where she stood, their legs still touching. He leaned forward as far as he could while burning into her eyes with his own, but she stayed where she was.

"This is interesting, Leese. For all that I'm-over-you-drama you've been giving me, you seem to remember our little conversations very well."

"Just because I'm over it doesn't mean I can't remember."

Pause.

"What does the shirt say?"

"What?"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "The shirt your friends gave you. I'm willing to bet a month's supply of shitty breakfast that it has some funny slash inspirational quote on it."

"It says 'TC for ever and ever'."

"TC?"

Lisa wished she had some of his ability to disappear behind a mask of indifference, because she couldn't quite hide the embarrassment when she answered. "Tough Cookie. It's … my nickname."

"Your friends don't know you very well, do they?" Noticing the look she gave him, he added, "Or they actually know you very well. They know what happened?"

"Yes."

"They helped you?"

"Yes."

Jackson smiled at her. "So how does it feel?"

"What?" Lisa wasn't sure where he was going with this and his smile made her uncomfortable. Restrained or not, Jackson was still a formidable opponent and when it came right down to it, he had resumed back control over the conversation flawlessly.

"After all this time it took you to let other people in, which I'm absolutely positive it did ... how does it feel to have to be alone again? To have to go through it without their help? I'm sure Keefe doesn't want anybody else to know our little secret."

Lisa froze. How was it possible that after all these months and no matter how much she thought she had changed, Jackson was still able to sense her insecurities? She got up and walked back around the table, sitting down on her chair again.

Jackson's expression was almost rapt. "Answer me, Leese."

Suddenly she realized that he needed her. Whatever it was that he wanted or why he wanted it, he seemed to need her answers just as much as she needed his.

She sighed and no sooner had the words sprung into her mind that their truth instantly comforted her. "I'm not alone." With satisfaction Lisa noted that he was, once more, surprised. "My friends may not know the details, but they know I'm here on … Fresh Air business. When I go back, they'll be there for me."

Looking down on the desk, he seemed to ponder her answer.

"But enough about me, Jackson, how have you been?"

Silence.

"I have been bored out of my mind, Leese. In case you haven't noticed these monkeys here are not the most entertaining kind and their manners are a little … rough."

"I'm amazed you'd turn to me for comfort."

"Do you really want to know?"

Lisa just looked at him calmly and he returned her look with what appeared to be sincere interest. Jackson leaned back on his chair and for the first time let her glimpse a little more of the real thing as he tried to get comfortable, eyeing his restraints with frustration.

"You got me into this." His words were curt and they both knew he made himself vulnerable to her, yet the way he said them was defiant, provocative, as if the truth could hurt her more than it ever could hurt him. "I was used to being busy, focused on the future, always concentrating on the next job. Ten years and I could have retired a wealthy man. Imagine my disdain when there suddenly was no next job and no future."

They still held eye contact.

"Where else could I turn in that hospital bed but the past? No fun either, let me tell you, because that's where you were. You and your stupid little sobs and pleas." He sounded angry. Was that finally the true Jackson?

He continued, his eyes glued to hers with that blue praying mantis stare that promised calm and peace, but only served to hide the danger underneath. "I am a professional, I take pride in absolute meticulousness, a clear strategy. And for the life of me, I couldn't figure out where it had gone wrong." He gave her a sly smile. "It bothered me."

"So now you think that if I tell you where it went wrong, you … what?"

Under his steady gaze Lisa felt ill at ease. It was unspoken, but he had an air of knowledge about him, almost as if he was just waiting to deal her a blow. "You see, Leese, we have a similar problem. I don't think you came here to do that grand nation of ours a favor."

Lisa tensed up when she realized he actually wanted her to answer.

"Did you?" His voice was inquisitive, impatient.

If only she could swallow her pride and look away, but then again she knew that he would never give her an out, no matter what she did. "No."

"You came here to put something behind you. I wanted you to come here, so I could put something behind me. I had you in that airplane bathroom, I _know_ I did … where did it turn, Leese?"

Lisa willed herself not to cry. With as much venom as she could muster she snarled, "Thanks for the quickie."

"Excuse me?"

"'Thanks for the quickie.' It's what you said to me before we went back out." Her voice was incredulous, refusing to believe that he couldn't remember that essential line which, basically, had turned her life around.

"Damn! I knew I threw you a final insult, but I had forgotten which one. Wrong choice, obviously." Jackson seemed amused, but then his eyes bore into the spot on her body where the scar was hidden underneath her clothes. He whispered, "Especially in connection with what I already suspected back then."

He looked up into her face. "What … no fluttering hand on the scar? You really have been getting better, haven't you?"

"Are you satisfied now?" Lisa's voice was stern, she needed him to know that his time with her was drawing to an end.

"For now, yes."

Lisa knew this was the blow he had wanted to deal her all along, but she couldn't help asking the question. "For now?"

"Oh, Leese, we're far from being done." It sounded like a lover's promise.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Lisa stood up, her cheeks red with anger. "I'm leaving now."

"No, you're not, believe me." Jackson reminded her of a grown-up talking to a misbehaving child. She hated that tone of his, always had.

"_Then what's the delay?" Waving the plane phone in front of her face._

"Leese!" When she didn't react and stalked out, he yelled for Marc Whitley.

Lisa would never forgive Whitley for what he did next. Stepping right into her path, almost bumping into her, he gestured for his goons to come over and make her stay while looking straight into her eyes. From his chair, Jackson saw it all.

"Just a moment, Ms. Reisert." Whitley closed the door behind him, leaving her alone with two men in suits who stood too close for comfort. Upset, she tugged at the hem of her shirt.

When Whitley came back out, his face was tense. "Ms. Reisert, could you please wait for Mr. Keefe." It was clearly not meant to be a question. His tone was hushed and urgent when he made a call from his cell and he all but ignored her afterwards.

Minutes later, Keefe walked towards them in long strides, but when Lisa made a move forward to intercept him, Whitley's agents stopped her in her tracks. Keefe noticed her irritation and gave her a brief apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. Just a second."

Lisa couldn't understand a single word he exchanged with Whitley, but both men were obviously agitated. At what seemed to be the end of an animated conversation, Keefe sighed and hung his head for a second before turning towards Lisa with a look in his eyes that alarmed her.

"Ms. Reisert, there have been … unforeseen developments."

Lisa shook her head. "Frankly, I don't care. I just want to leave now."

"Rippner has proposed another deal, but he won't go into specifics as long as you're not present. Listen, you have already done a great deal for your country back on that plane and there is no way we - or I - could ever repay you. Could you not ..."

"Mr. Keefe, you're forgetting one thing. _I made that call._ There are limits to what I can do for you or my country." Her voice was fierce.

"But you came through. You did. Nothing is decided yet, let's just hear what he has to say. Please." It was the gravity in his words that got to her. "Give us a fighting chance. Please."

Lisa could barely get it out. "Okay." She straightened her shoulders, wiped the tears from her face and smoothed her hair. Whitley shot her an approving glance which she returned with a frown before she brusquely turned away.

As soon as Whitley's agents had brought two more chairs, Keefe, Whitley and Lisa went back into the interrogation room. Jackson acknowledged her with a nod and the words "I told you so" sparkling from the taunting smile she remembered so well.

"Congratulations. The girl can be hard to convince."

"The deal, Rippner," Whitley cut in, his aggression palpable. "What's the offer?"

"Let's just do a quick check-up on the status quo first, shall we?" Howcould he manageto sound so cocky? This was a big deal and Jackson knew it, yet his confident tone reminded her so much of how he'd been like on the plane, laying out the details of his plan. A coldness crept up Lisa's spine when she looked at his face that emanated charm and malice in perfect harmony. She forced the memories back into a corner of her mind. _He can't harm you now._

Jackson went on. "I trust the fact that I have been … secured is still a secret?"

Keefe nodded.

"The transfer from the hospital to here looked as if I managed to escape to anyone who might inquire further?"

Another nod. Whitley stole a sidelong peek at his superior, undeniably displeased with how this conversation was going.

"And last, but not least - there's still the dummy entry in the FBI's most wanted list?" When Keefe nodded yet again, Jackson gave a little laugh. "Perfect."

"For what?" Whitley grew increasingly impatient.

"Well, Mr. Whitley, I know that you have never had the luck of actually snatching someone like me, you have no clue how we work and you only have a skeletal knowledge of our network and the people involved. Quite unsatisfying, right? With terrorism being such a threat and all …"

The air between Whitley and Jackson was charged with tension and Lisa was sure that Whitley was going to lose his temper sooner or later.

Apparently, so was Keefe. "Stating old facts is not a valid business proposal, Rippner. Get on with it before we get bored." There was a brutality in his voice that Lisa had never heard before. It shocked her.

"Do you not see the potential?" Jackson, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. "Get someone in there and you'll have all the knowledge that you need."

Whitley eyed Jackson with disgust. "It takes ages to prep someone for this kind of job. And then it would be far too long until they were in deep enough to deliver useful intel. Even if we had a tutor that might give … tips."

Jackson, smile firm in place, fixed his gaze on Keefe. "Who said anything about tutoring?"

For a moment, silence filled the room.

It wasn't really news to her, but Lisa was still amazed at how good Jackson was with words. The fact that even people like Keefe and Whitley were susceptible to his drawing power gave her a bit of comfort.

"So here's the deal. Nobody out there knows I have been under arrest. As far as they are concerned, I have gone invisible for a while. You let me out and I serve you your precious intel on a silver tray."

"You don't have to be out to give us all your contacts, now do you, Jack?" If Jackson had a trademark smirk, Whitley definitely had a trademark sneer.

Jackson shrugged. "Whitley, you _are_ aware of the fact that this business changes constantly, aren't you? Many of my contacts are probably no longer active, so any list I'd give you now would be very outdated. Either way, you could only get the small fish, maybe pester some low-level enablers. And if word gets out …"

"And what would you do?" Keefe's face gave nothing away.

"I could deliver you the plans, what kind of jobs are out there."

"Employers?"

"No. That would be your job." Jackson's voice was curt. "We never know them ourselves, but someone higher up the ladder does."

"It's an interesting thought, Rippner, I'll give you that." Keefe sounded pensive. "How would you go about it?"

"I need to have full freedom to do the stuff I'm out to do." When Whitley opened his mouth to speak, Jackson cut him off with a snap of his fingers. "I don't care what you have to do to feel safe, tracking-wise, but I can't be seen with any of you. No agents at my house, no inconspicuous cars and homeless people around, whatever. I call the shots, I do what I must and I do it how I think it's best. I report to you, but I don't work under your direct orders as far as strategic decisions are concerned. You have no clue about the system and I can't trust your judgment."

"I repeat, how would you go about it?" Keefe leaned forward, while Whitley slumped back into his chair, lips pressed together.

"Contact some people in the know. Refresh relations with important contacts. Put out an open application, accept meetings and voilà." Jackson shrugged as if it was the easiest thing on earth. But then his eyes fell on Lisa and he cocked his head. "There's just one thing."

She didn't want to know.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note:** A big, big thanks to you guys, you have been really great. I hope you like the following chapter, too.

**Chapter 10**

Jackson seemed to relish her palor. "The thing is … in order to make a grand enough entrance for everybody to forget about my little mishap I need a grand gesture."

"What kind of gesture, Rippner?" Keefe looked at Lisa and she could tell he did not like where this was going. Neither did she.

Flashing a smile, Jackson winked at her. "Kidnap her."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Whitley huffed and got up from his chair to stomp into the back of the room.

"Think about it. I'm marked, I botched my last assignment." Was there a hint of annoyance in his words? "What better way to bounce back than to get her from under your very noses? All you have to do is leak the word that I'm back and wanting revenge on the person who foiled my plan back then. Tighten security around her. And as soon as I have the girl, the news will spread into all the right circles, believe me."

"And then what, Jackson?" Lisa couldn't believe his words. Nor could she believe the fact that Keefe hadn't terminated the conversation right then and there.

"You stay with me, look very frightened whenever I have a meeting with someone and once I'm done, you're done. Sound like a plan?" Jackson was so content, it made her sick to her stomach.

"I stay with you! As in chained to a wall or something?"

"Only if we have visitors. The rest of the time you are free to run around in my place as much as you wish. The outside's off limits, though."

Lisa hated those trips down memory lane. The way he talked to her, matter-of-factly, courteous, yet relentlessly pressing his issues with an undertone of menace. Her disbelief about the situation she found herself in, how helpless she felt. And she truly felt helpless, because in her heart, she was sure they would ask her to do this. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Jackson continued, shifting his eyes to Keefe. "You know, you have a once in a lifetime chance here. All I want is my freedom in exchange for invaluable information you very desperately need." He was almost singing the words now. "Mull it over. Take your time."

Lisa walked out of the room. She had barely made it past the door when she sensed the familiar nausea, the feeling of going under. With two tumbling steps, she reached the wall and slid down. Whitley's agents made a dash for her and tried to steady her, but Lisa couldn't find the strength to stand. One of them carried her into another room and stretched her out on the floor, using his jacket as a pillow for her head. "There now, Ms. Reisert. Breathe." For a few blessed seconds, there was nothing but the sound of her labored breath and his soothing voice, but then Keefe and Whitley entered her line of sight. Somebody sat her up and handed her a glass of water she could barely hold.

"Are you allright, Ms. Reisert?" Whitley actually sounded concerned, which surprised her a little. At the same time, it bothered her. Lisa was so tired of always being the one people worried about, squirming under their miscroscopes more often than she cared to do.

"Give me just a few minutes alone, please."

They all left her. As soon as she thought she was able to do so, Lisa stood up and took a few tentative steps around the room. It was bare, obviously used for interrogation. She found she didn't like these rooms, the threat they held, the stories their walls could certainly tell. Lisa longed to get out and be free of it all, but would she ever be? As long as Jackson was in here, he would keep sending for her, tearing the delicate web of peace she had weaved around her life. But who was to say that he'd leave her alone if she helped him and he got out? The question burned her. Lisa took a deep breath and joined the others in the hall.

"I need a moment with him. No listeners."

Whitley carefully took her arm and walked her back to where Jackson was. "Ms. Reisert, I know you don't like me very much and that can't be helped, I'm afraid, but I just want to tell you how much I admire what you're doing here," he said quietly before opening the door for her without waiting for a response.

Jackson looked at Lisa and the intensity of his blue-eyed examination made her want to turn around and run, but she had given a promise to herself and she was going to keep it. Lisa felt deep down within her mind until she had found the rage that simmered there and let it feed her words. "Know this, Jackson. This time I will NOT be forced, so if you want something from me, you'll have to make a deal that _I_ like. Is that understood?"

"Let me guess - if we do this and I get free, I am to disappear from your life and never to return." No smirk, no insults. Apparently, she had gotten her point across.

"Do we have a deal?"

"We do. If I could, I'd shake your hand, but …" With an exaggerated helpless gesture he moved his arms until the restraints rattled against the chair.

Lisa left him without another glance.

They let her fly home and she couldn't wait to be back. Her father, Cynthia and Jay picked her up from the airport and even her mom was there. When she saw their smiling faces, she struggled for a moment before she let out the sobs that had tightened her chest. A few minutes later, they all released each other with a laugh when they realized they had somehow formed into a group hug and that people were staring at them.

"Baby girl, my little baby girl, it's so good to see you again." Lisa's mother held on to her arm. "I know you hate the question, but are you allright?"

Lisa didn't have to lie … yet. "Kind of. Let's go have dinner, there is something I need you to know."

Dinner was a difficult affair. All she could tell them was that she was needed in Washington for an unspecified amount of time and that she would have to break off all contact for the duration of the assignment. Her parents and her friends were completely against the idea, but after a while, they caved in. They had to - there was something new about Lisa, a quiet determination that was different from her usual soldiering on.

In the following weeks, Lisa spent as much time with her family and friends as she possibly could, which she knew unsettled them. She had quit her job at the Lux Atlantic and it was all too clear that she wanted to enjoy the time before "the assignment" almost as if she would never come back.

About a month after her trip to Washington, Lisa was spending another evening with her father, Cynthia and Jay when her cell phone rang. Keefe's voice was low and tense when he told her it was time.

She was going to go to Washington and move into Jackson's local safe house together with the man himself. The next day, Keefe's staff would leak the information that Jackson Rippner was back in the States and that Lisa was his suspected target.

The idea to stage the actual kidnap with Jackson and Lisa in their respective roles had been deemed far too risky, so a Lisa double was to take her place in her apartment. As soon as the agents could be sure the information had reached the right people, they would escort the double to the local Federal Bureau office on the outskirts of Miami.

Later, that very double would be "abducted", but in a highly controlled environment: the federal agents were briefed, the kidnappers consisted of Keefe's own people and even the eye witnesses who would give their statements to the local police were government agents.

After a tearful goodbye to the people she loved so much, Lisa got on a government plane. She cried all the way to Washington until she felt there were no more tears to shed. As soon as they had landed, she was immediately escorted to a limousine that took her to a nondescript house in the capital's suburbs. Whitley, who was in charge of the operation, welcomed her, took her bags and gave her an encouraging smile before he escorted her inside. Jackson was already there. After a brief talk and a few severe threats from Whitley directed at Jackson, they were left alone.

Lisa didn't quite know what to do with herself. She looked at Jackson, who in turn looked at her with a blank expression. It was fairly awkward, but then he shook his head and the corners of his mouth settled into a slight grin.

His tone was pleasant, yet it sounded like a challenge when he said, "And again, it's just you and me - without restraints. That's so much better, don't you think? Here, let me show you around … roomie."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The house was small. The front door led right into the living room and there was also a tiny kitchen, a bathroom and a bedroom. Only the living room and the bedroom had windows and even those weren't too big, which made the whole thing rather dark. Another door in the living room was the way into a little overgrown backyard that bordered on a park lined with thick hedges and trees. The adjoining garage offered just enough space for the blue Ford they had been provided with.

Lisa's room was in the basement, barely big enough to fit a single metal bed, a miniscule table and a chair. The content of her bags went into a hidden closet in another room downstairs. With much chagrin Lisa noted that the room where her things were kept was actually larger than the one she was supposed to live in.

"Allright, ground rules." Jackson's voice yanked her out of her thoughts. "You never, ever leave your stuff lying around. We can't be scrambling to hide everything if we get unexpected visitors. Even inside your room, you can only have the bare essentials – water, food, a book, nothing else. And the hidden closet has to stay hidden. Is that understood? You are my prisoner and it can't look any other way." The smile he gave her let her know just how much he enjoyed that fact.

Jackson stepped closer and continued. "The blinds are drawn at all times, day and night. If I have to leave and you're alone and you realize I forgot, you stay in the basement until I get back. If you need to go, there's a bucket and some toilet paper under your bed. Someone sees you roaming the house alone and we're dead."

He waited for Lisa to nod in agreement, which she reluctantly did. "If we get visitors, you are going to your room immediately and you are cuffing yourself to the bed with these." Lisa flinched when he dangled a pair of handcuffs in front of her face. "I don't care what you have to do to get there by yourself, but I want frightened, I want desperate, I want crying when I come into your room with my associates. You play along with whatever I do at all times and under all circumstances. And you always, always wait for me to tell you it's okay to come back out. Is that clear?"

Finally, the full reality of what she was about to do crashed down on Lisa. She swallowed down the lump that had formed in her throat and sighed a quiet yes.

"And last, but not least: no contact whatsoever to the outside world. No 3 a.m. calls to your daddy when you feel sad and lonely and you think you can't take it anymore. No anonymous postcards to your friends to let them know you're okay. No quick dash to the backyard to get some fresh air. You stay in the house and no talking to anybody but me or the government monkeys."

During the last part of his speech, Lisa had looked to the floor while concentrating on his words, so it startled her when she lifted her head and realized just how close he had gotten. Lisa took a quick step backwards and immediately regretted it when she detected the familiar smugness on his face. Jackson was playing with her.

"How about another deal, Leese? I'll be a good boy as long as you are a good girl. How does that sound?"

"Sounds peachy." She was getting better at being acerbic. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a shower."

It felt weird to stand naked under the hot water knowing that Jackson Rippner was right on the other side of the bathroom door. Lisa was dead tired, but restless and the thought of spending time with him in this gloomy little house made her queasy. Already she longed for the company of her friends who could always make her laugh and take a little of that burden off her shoulders. After she was done, she got dressed and made an effort to erase all traces of her presence.

Jackson was sitting on the couch when she came out. Without a word, he grabbed a towel and some clothes that lay by his side and went into the bathroom. While listening to him splashing around Lisa pondered her options - she had brought a few books, maybe reading would help her fall asleep. But this meant she would have to go down to that depressing room in the basement. Staying upstairs would unavoidably result in Jackson's company and Lisa wasn't sure whether she was ready for that. It was all so … surreal.

She was just checking the freezer for comfort food when the sound of his voice from right behind her made her jump. "Did you bring any nice clothes? Because we're going out."

"What!"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "We have one evening off before all this shit gets started. I just got out of prison. I'm definitely _not_ staying in tonight - and you look like you could use one or two of your favored vodka concoctions."

Lisa shrugged. What the hell.

Two hours later, they were sitting side by side at the bar in a loud club in the center of Washington. Lisa stole the occasional glance at Jackson and all things put aside, she had to admit he looked handsome. She wasn't the only one who noticed, though, there was a whole throng of women giving him the old flutter of the eyelids and the hair toss. Every now and then, he would reply with a flirtatious grin and a wink, but he seemed to favor the bartender.

She kept hovering around them, apparently just as attracted to him as he was to her. "Another drink, honey?"

"Yes please." It was Lisa's fourth and slowly, she began to feel the alcohol take hold.

"So, what brings you to Washington?" The bartender asked looking at Jackson.

"Business." Jackson put his arm around Lisa. "And my half-sister, Maureen."

"Your half-sister. Is that so?" She drew out the words, obviously pleased.

"Just a little chore I picked up over the weekend …" Slowly and deliberately, Jackson let his eyes travel down over her cleavage to the glitzy nametag that was attached to her chest. "… Cherry."

Cherry leaned closer to him across the bar. "She doesn't look like much of a chore."

"Don't let the innocent looks fool you." Jackson wrapped his fingers around his glass, grazing hers on the way.

She leaned in even closer until their faces were only inches apart. "I'm not an easy one to fool, you know?"

"I bet you aren't." He gave her a stunner of a naughty smile and moved his mouth towards hers.

Lisa groaned.

With a regretful sigh Jackson backed away. "Can you give us a second, Cherry?"

While the woman went to the other side of the bar, Lisa raised an eyebrow at Jackson. "Looking for something specific?"

"Yes, actually. A year can be an awfully long time, you know?" Without warning, he pulled her against him. "And as I'm fairly certain that you're not up to the task …" Lisa froze when she felt his breath on her neck. "… Cherry will do."

He released her, giving her a little pat on the shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Lisa watched Jackson cross the distance to the bartender, eyes always on his prize, and shook her head. He was different from what she had seen in the TexMex, less polite, more aggressive in his advances.

She slid off her stool and walked onto the crowded dance floor, letting her body find the rhythm until she was moving in perfect harmony with the music. Jackson and Cherry were still talking, laughing, touching each other more and more intimately until she took his hand and led him to a door. "Maintenance". How romantic. Lisa abandoned all thought and with her eyes closed, gave herself over to the pounding beats.

She had completely lost herself in dancing when she suddenly felt a hand on her arm. It took her a moment to find her way back into reality.

"You ready to go?" Jackson asked. He looked like a cat that had just finished an entire bowl of cream.

Lisa regarded him wearily. "Ready when you are."

"Let's leave then." He led her towards the exit. "By the way, I didn't say any thanks for the quickie. I heard that leads to trouble."

Lisa yanked herself free and gave him a shove. "Don't you dare." She pushed him again and he made no move to stop her. "Don't you fucking dare, Jackson."

In silence they drove back to the house. Well, in relative silence, anyway - Jackson was humming.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note: **Thanks for the lovely reviews, guys, you totally make my day!

**Chapter 12**

Lisa awoke from the restless slumber she had been drifting in and out of the entire night to the smell of fresh coffee. With a moan she stretched her stiff limbs and for the umpteenth time in her life, cursed the inventors of vodka drinks. Slowly she trudged upstairs and was headed for the bathroom when a cheerful "Good morning, sunshine," greeted her from the kitchen. Lisa just nodded at Jackson who leaned against the doorframe.

"Did you sleep well?" He took a sip from a steaming mug.

"Not really, no." She shut the door behind her and got in the shower. Half an hour of hot water later Lisa felt human again and ready to face him.

Jackson was standing by the small front window gazing through the blinds. His posture seemed alert and he was cursing under his breath.

Lisa didn't dare join him, but she didn't want to just stand there, either. "What's going on?"

"Very inconspicuous monkey boys everywhere. I _told_ them to stay away, damnit." With an irritated jerk he shut the blinds and walked past her, bumping against her shoulder with his own. "If this is Whitley's idea of hidden surveillance, we're not gonna make it."

"It can't be that bad." Lisa followed him into the kitchen, slightly annoyed.

"I looked out that window for about half a minute and I was able to spot at least five guys patrolling the area." Mechanically, Jackson poured her a mug of coffee. "This is dangerous, Leese, these idiots are going to get us killed."

Together they walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch, a safe distance between them.

"Allright, so we tell Whitley to get off our backs a little." Lisa looked down on her legs, absentmindedly massaging the sore muscles in her neck.

"You forget that Whitley likes to do the exact opposite of what I ask him to do. Maybe if you told him." Jackson sounded pensive.

"I don't think so, he'd smell a damsel in distress and come running."

Their eyes met and for a moment Lisa thought she detected a hint of reluctant approval in his, but it was gone too quickly to be sure.

Jackson leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "This isn't good."

"You don't say. Unfortunately, there's not much we can do at this point." Lisa took her mug and walked into the kitchen looking for breakfast. Her thoughts traveled to Keefe and Whitley and their agents spreading the news that Jackson Rippner had resurfaced. At this very moment, someone somewhere might hear it and perk up, consider a plot. It made her shudder and she dropped the plate she had just picked out of the cupboard.

"Nervous?" Jackson watched her gather up the shards and shook his head when she cut herself. With an exasperated sigh he grabbed a towel and threw it at her.

"You're a regular Sherlock, aren't you?"

"Which would make you my Watson." He grinned. "Hey, Watson, where was that picture of you and all the mud taken?"

Realization dawned on her, but Lisa didn't want to believe it. "Did you go through my stuff!"

"Of course. I needed to be sure you didn't bring any surprises." Jackson put the empty coffee mug on the counter. "Now come on, answer my question. It won't hurt, I promise."

Lisa rolled her eyes and told him while she made herself a sandwich. Smalltalk with Jackson Rippner, who would have thought? She wondered whether he found the situation as strange as she did, because he definitely wasn't showing it. And why was he smiling like that?

Jackson seemed to sense her question. "Easy as ever, Leese." He winked.

A knock on the backdoor made them both jump. Lisa raced down the stairs into the basement, a million thoughts in her head battling for dominance. Jackson was right behind her and turned the key once she was inside her room. "Don't cuff yourself, but keep quiet," he hissed before she heard his footsteps move away. Lisa held her breath.

A minute later, a furious Jackson opened the door and with a little bow, stepped aside for Marc Whitley. "We've got company."

"Ms. Reisert, are you okay?"

"Yes." Lisa's eyes went from Whitley to Jackson, uncertain of what was going on.

"Are you sure?"

Oh for crying out loud. "Yes, I am. What are you doing here?"

"Just checking up on you and to tell you that the news got out." Whitley glanced at Jackson. "Had fun at the club last night?"

"Get out." Jackson's voice was pure, undiluted anger.

Whitley crossed his arms. "Says who?"

"Get. Out. You're putting us at risk and I won't have that." Almost a whisper now, but powerful nonetheless. Jackson was radiating danger.

"You're in no position to tell anybody what you'll have and what not."

Jackson turned around and stiffly walked up the stairs. Lisa followed him after a few seconds which - she could tell - didn't please Whitley.

He went after her. "Ms. Reisert, please take these." Whitley held out his hand and Lisa looked at the tiny round microphones he offered her.

Jackson came out of nowhere. "Are you insane!" He shoved them back into Whitley's breast pocket. "Do you have any idea what my associates will do to us if they discover we're bugged? Never mind that, Whitley, but it's also going to blow your little operation into a million pieces."

"Did you really think we'd let you run around unsupervised, Jack?" Whitley snarled.

"I would hardly call this unsupervised, _Marc_. It's like 'Surveillance for Dummies' out there!" Jackson was fuming and Lisa realized that she actually agreed with him. It did seem like an unnecessary risk to come here and make them wear something that could give them away so easily.

"You're using the microphones, is that understood?" Whitley handed them to Lisa who took them after a moment's hesitation.

"All the time?" she asked him.

"Once the show gets started, yes." He gave Jackson a smug grin and tipped his head. "So long."

Whitley was just out the door when Jackson turned to Lisa. "Give them to me." He was seething with barely suppressed temper. When she didn't react as fast as he would have liked, he grabbed her wrist. "Give them to me. Now."

Lisa dropped them and let him bend down to pick them off the floor.

"Don't give me that attitude, Leese."

Jackson took a step closer and instinctively, she took one step back. With a cold smile, he followed her. Lisa didn't know what to do – she couldn't stand the closeness, but she didn't want to give in, either. She pushed him hard. "Stay away, Jackson. I mean that."

He shrugged, smile still in place. "I'll be in my room."

Lisa just gave an inward sigh of relief when Jackson suddenly crossed the distance between them with one swift moment and yanked her towards him. His eyes held hers with that familiar stare that scared her more than the pain he caused by digging his fingers into her skin. Jackson bent down and whispered, "Don't piss me off. I'm still me."

After a few seconds he released her and went into his room, the door slamming shut behind him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note:** This is going to be a bit shorter than usual, sorry. Next chapter will be coming up soon to make up for that fact, I promise!

**Chapter 13**

The door was locked.

Once she had stopped shaking, Lisa had gone down into the basement and taken all the photos from the hidden closet. She had curled up on her bed caressing the pictures as if they could bring her closer to the people she missed so much. The road trip. At a bar with Cynthia and Jay. Dinner at her dad's. Her mom in that beautiful wedding gown, arm around her smiling daughter. The first alternate birthday celebration.

At some point her body had finally demanded the rest she hadn't gotten in the last two days and she had fallen asleep, hugging the pictures close to her.

But now they were gone, the door was locked and Lisa in a panic.

"Open the door, Jackson! Open the damn door!" She pounded her fists against it.

"I'm here, Leese."

When she tried to storm out of the room, he blocked her and Lisa staggered backwards from the impact. Jackson went after her and steadied her with one hand on her back. With the other, he lifted her chin. "You're hysterical. Calm down." His voice was matter-of-factly.

"Where are my pictures?" Lisa twisted her head away from his fingers and brought her hands up against him. Jackson let her go, but watched her closely.

"I put them back into the closet and locked the door. You never know. I have word, it's on." He beamed a satisfied smile. "That was fairly fast. Obviously, there's still a market for me."

"Congratulations." Lisa sat down on the chair. "They are gonna do the kidnap?"

"Yes." Jackson checked his watch. "Tomorrow at 3 a.m., to be exact. Which gives us about two days from now before the real game starts." He turned away. "Enough time for Whitley to screw us over."

"Give it a rest, Jackson." Lisa was still trembling from the shock and it didn't help her mood. "Whatever you think of him, Whitley's a professional and I'll stick with him."

Jackson looked at her with a frown and his voice was impatient when he said, "I fully intend to be alive at the end of this. Whitley's an obstacle, not help, Leese. You better stick with _me_."

"I didn't know I would have to decide." Lisa tried to step around him, but he held her back by her arm.

"When the time comes, you better be ready to do just that."

None too gently, Jackson took her hand and led her upstairs towards the front window. "Careful, but look out and tell me what you see."

Cautiously, Lisa peered through the blinds. The outside seemed to be alive with activity – a man was mowing the lawn next to theirs, another man across the street was washing his car together with a friend. Somebody walked a small dog and a homeless guy leaned against some garbage cans. A jogger passed the house.

Maybe Jackson had finally managed to infect her with his paranoia, but Lisa found it all a bit weird. She couldn't really pinpoint why, but for starters, it was only men, no women anywhere, and they all seemed a little too aware of their surroundings. Too many glances in the direction of the house and up and down the road. And had she just seen a flash of movement in the empty car across the street?

"Now - what do you see?" Jackson was standing right behind her, chest touching her back, his head almost resting on her shoulder.

She told him.

"Do they look like regular people doing the things they do?" By the way his breath brushed her cheek, Lisa could tell Jackson was looking at her.

"I don't know, Jackson. Maybe, but …"

"Go with your instincts, Leese, they're good." A smirk in his voice before it went back to neutral. "Don't you find it odd that they don't acknowledge each other at all? No friendly hello to the neighbor, no you're-not-welcome-here-buddy-stare at the bum, no talking between friends who wash a car together? Why is the jogger running up and down this street and not doing his rounds in the lovely park behind our house? And don't get me started on that 'empty' car, those guys should be fired on the spot."

Jackson turned her towards him. "If _you_ notice, my associates certainly will. You see people behaving like that and you run, Leese."

When she refused to meet his gaze, he shook her lightly until she did. "No. You run, you hear me?"

"Jackson, my instincts are telling me to run right now. Doesn't change a thing, though." Lisa walked away from him and sat down on the couch.

Jackson followed her. "And your instincts are telling you to stick with Whitley?"

"What do you think? Of course! I could never trust you, Jackson, too much history."

"Fair enough." He shrugged and got up. With his back to her he gave a startling imitation of her voice. "Doesn't change a thing, though."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note:** As promised, here's a quick update to make up for the short chapter 13. Thanks again to everybody who keeps following and reviewing my story, you guys rock my world!

**Chapter 14**

The following three days were fairly uneventful. Lisa and Jackson settled into something of a routine - getting up at roughly the same time in the morning, taking their meals together, cleaning up after themselves and chatting carefully with each other.

Whenever Lisa got nervous or restless, Jackson badgered her with something until she was either angry or laughing. Laughing became the more common response. She found the way he could get under her skin so easily still scary, but it helped her take her mind off certain things, so she slowly started to live with it.

They would talk about her life, her job, her friends - with him asking questions and her answering them. Lisa didn't learn anything more about Jackson, though, because whenever the conversation turned to his past, he would divert onto another topic. Sometimes he'd give her what she referred to as "lessons in spy work" and she began to discover his character through the job he had picked.

Somewhere along the line they seemed to have negotiated a fragile truce. Lisa never once forgot who she was dealing with and some issues were definitely off limits. Whitley was one of them – one time they had argued about him to a point where Lisa had lost her temper and hit Jackson in the face. He had pushed her against the wall in response, creating a large bruise on her back. When she had come back upstairs two hours later, he had wordlessly tossed her an ice pack and disappeared into his room until she had called him out for coffee.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, Lisa was reading on the couch while Jackson watched TV.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room shifted and Lisa felt the hairs on her arm bristle. She looked to Jackson - he had sat up, listening for something with an expression of poignant concern. The next second, they were already running down into her room where Lisa cuffed herself to the bed and Jackson locked the door.

It could only have been a couple of minutes, but it seemed like ages until Lisa heard the lock turn and Jackson appeared in the doorway. He was trying to hide it, but Lisa could have sworn he was tense.

"False alarm." He unlocked the handcuffs and helped her up.

"What do you mean, false alarm? What's going on, Jackson?"

His voice was curt. "Whitley."

"What did he want?" Lisa grew impatient, getting information from him was such a hassle.

"To tell me everything is underway. Fucking idiot."

"Calm down." She got up and turned to leave. "You know, you two are like kids sometimes."

"You still think he's the right man for the job then, do you?" He sounded strange.

It made Lisa look at him. "How many more times, Jackson? YES. And I'm not in the mood to argue, so leave me alone."

"You'll reconsider once my associates get a hold on us."

"Why do you make me say it, huh? You know the answer – I don't trust you." She stormed out and the mocking "Suit yourself." he threw after her made her blood boil.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in silence, each one deep in thoughts. Every once in a while, Lisa would steal a glance at Jackson, but the way he was sitting there with his jaw set told her not to disturb him.

Sudden darkness.

A shot rang out, followed by a second, followed by more. Yelling.

Lisa jumped up and froze. What was she going to do? Her heart stood still. She had no weapon … a weapon! She raced into the kitchen and ripped open the cutlery drawer, rifling through it with shaking hands that could not hold on to anything. God! A strong arm pulled her away and in a panic Lisa fought and struggled until she realized it was Jackson who kept murmuring soothing words into her ear.

She was frantic, her body stiff as a board. "We gotta get out of here! We have to …"

"Don't worry, everything's under control." He turned her around. "Sssh, Leese."

What?

A world in slow motion.

"_I have to assume she's going to read that."_

"_Read what?"_

With a desperate cry Lisa shoved at his chest and got away far enough that the head butt missed, but he still got her nose. Tears shot from her eyes and for a moment, Lisa couldn't see. She pushed out her arms and stumbled backwards until she slammed into the kitchen counter. Jackson was right after her, charging his body onto hers and grabbing her by the shirt.

A strange feeling took over. With crystalline clarity Lisa saw the past - she heard the sounds, she smelled the scents and above all, she felt the determination from back then so strongly that it seemed to spill over into the present. She followed her own angry scream into battle, punching him hard, aiming for hits. Her whole body was her weapon, knees, fists, elbows, her head … and inch for inch, Lisa got away from the counter. It might have been seconds later, it might have been hours, but for the fraction of a moment she was free and - as Jackson blocked the way to the garage - darted out of the kitchen. The door!

A shove sent her tumbling and she ripped down the curtain she had tried to hold on to. Lisa had almost regained balance when Jackson gave her another jab that had her flying backwards, cracking the window upon impact. Warm liquid trickled down her back and her vision blurred. Pain and a sense of futility flooded her mind and the aimed hits turned into frenzied thrashing that grew weaker by the minute. Lisa cursed him, yelling crude expletives that she had never once used before.

Jackson started laughing. With a few hard moves he smashed away her last defenses, pulling her so close she could hardly breathe. "Stop it. Don't make me hurt you."

The patience in his silky voice sent one last flash of fury through her veins and Lisa twisted in his arms. "Get away from me!"

"I gave you a choice, Leese."

She saw it coming, but there was nothing she could do. When Jackson's head connected with hers, white light exploded behind her eyelids and then her world went dimmer and dimmer. She slid down, instinctively holding on to him, and felt him brush her cheek before unconsciousness finally claimed her.

---------

_Water all around. Darkness. The surface so far, far away. Desperate for air._

Lisa came back to her senses with a start and snapped upright, immediately emitting an agonized gasp. Crying and shivering, she detected the source of her pain – she was chained to a wall. With horror, Lisa realized she didn't recognize her surroundings.

"Calm down." Cool fingers on her face, on her wrists, freeing her of the chains.

Lisa crawled backwards into a corner and stared wide-eyed at Jackson. "What did you do? Where am I?" When he made a move towards her, Lisa brought up her knees against her chest and glared at him. "Stay away from me."

He raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "We're at a friend's house."

"A friend?"

This time, Jackson ignored her defensive body language. He pulled her up and steadied her almost gently, considering the circumstances.

"Let me see your back."

"My back?"

A familiar voice rang out from the direction of the door. "Because of the cuts. Jackson told me he had to smash you against a window or else you wouldn't have stopped. I'm impressed."

It was Cherry, the bartender.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note: **Thanks everybody for their kind reviews! This is going to be the last update for a while now, as a. I'll be out of the country for a few days and b. I have managed to write myself into a bit of a pickle. Buy one, get one writer's block for free! Arghs.

**Chapter 15**

Lisa's voice was incredulous. "You … you planned this, didn't you?"

Jackson sighed and rolled his eyes. "I took precautions, yes. If it's any consolation, it was supposed to be Plan B."

"What turned it into Plan A?"

"Whitley."

Lisa thought she might burst into flames. Before she knew what she was doing, she had pushed him, going after Jackson with clawed hands. "You jerk! You ruined everything! Let me leave right now!"

He blocked her, but didn't answer in kind. She kept trying to hit him until a sharp pain in her back made her yelp and Lisa paused, breath wheezing.

Cherry, who had stayed by the door and was watching them with growing interest, coughed. "The scabs must have come off, she's bleeding again."

Jackson looked down on Lisa. "Cease fire?"

She replied through clenched teeth. "For now."

A slight smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Leese." Jackson shifted his gaze to Cherry. "Can you check on those cuts?"

"Sure." As soon as he had left the room, the "bartender" turned to Lisa. "You're feisty - I think he likes you."

"What on earth makes you think that!"

Cherry shrugged. "He hasn't killed you yet, has he?" Noticing the irritated glance Lisa shot her, she added with a grin, "That's almost as good as eloped in our world."

Lisa closed her eyes, this whole thing was a bit too much for her - her head was throbbing, her back hurt and she was so, so tired of it all … . She kept telling herself that Cherry must be involved in terrorism as well and thus could not be trusted. Maybe it was just the fact that she was with another woman, but somehow, Lisa calmed down.

Cherry led her to a clean mattress in the corner, talking to her in a quiet, soothing voice. Taking off the shirt was awful, the dried blood had all but glued it to her bruised and sore skin and Lisa bit down hard on her lip.

"There we go, lie down on your belly." Cherry opened the clasp of Lisa's bra and clicked her tongue. "I'm going to get an antiseptic, we need to clean this. Be back in a minute."

A few moments later she returned and sat down next to Lisa. "I'm afraid this is gonna sting. Easy now."

The burning sensation elicited a suppressed groan from Lisa and she was surprised when she felt Cherry blow cool air onto her back. "What exactly is it you do, Cherry?"

"I'm in retail." Gently, she dabbed the disinfectant onto Lisa's skin.

"Selling what?"

"Weapons."

"You're a gun runner!"

"Oh not only guns, hon." Cherry's tone was conversational, chatty, as if her job was no different from a million others.

"Were … were you involved in the Keefe assassination?" For some reason, Lisa prayed the answer would be no.

Cherry chuckled. "I'm involved in everything Jackson does."

She couldn't help but ask. "Are you two …?"

"Lovers? No. We're business partners."

"So when you were … when it looked as if … well, in the maintenance room at the club. You actually planned to do this?"

"Yes." Lisa detecteda smile in the other woman's words. "You seem angry."

"Gawd, you people always notice, don't you?" Lisa grimaced when another cut was protesting its treatment with the antiseptic.

"Yeah well, us bartenders are a fairly intuitive bunch."

"Don't, Cherry, just don't. You know what I mean."

Silence.

"Lisa, our life depends on assessment. If we can't read people, we're dead."

"So what do you read in me?"

Lisa heard the top being screwed back onto the bottle and gave a little sigh of relief. At least that part of her ordeal was over.

"I read a fish out of water. I read resilience, but vulnerability. There's a whole story to you that I don't know yet and it might have something to do with the scar on your chest."

"Jackson told you." Lisa hadn't intended it to do so, but it sounded like an accusation.

"Jackson told her what?" Jackson's voice from the doorway startled her and instinctively, Lisa pressed her naked torso further into the mattress, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

"About the scar." Cherry got up and stretched her legs.

"But Jackson didn't." He was smug - Lisa didn't even have to look at him to see the familiar expression on his face.

Cherry's cell phone rang and she answered it with a curt hello before she left the room. Lisa's eyes darted around for something to cover with, maybe even a weapon, when she heard Jackson approach her with slow steps.

"Oh please, I'm not going to jump you, Leese. In whatever sense of the word." He sat down where Cherry had sat just a minute ago and Lisa tensed up. "Does it hurt?"

"What do you think, Sherlock?" she hissed.

"I think it does. I'm just trying to be polite here – that's more than I can say about you, by the way."

"What do you expect, Jackson? You are responsible for that pain – and the one in my head, not to forget about that. Let alone the fact that you kidnapped me." Lisa swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Jackson was quiet for a minute and she held her breath. She was barely a match for him on a good day, but here and now, bruised and battered, half-naked, tired and lonely, Lisa knew she stood no chance against him. Her defiant words were just that - words. She shuddered when she sensed him move.

"I brought you some aspirin. Here." Jackson poured a glass of water and put it next to her on the floor.

When she didn't take it, he uttered an exasperated grunt. "For crying out loud, Leese." He cursed. "Look at me, damnit."

Reluctantly, Lisa lifted her head towards him and with a mocking gesture, he covered his eyes with his hands. "Happy?"

"I'd be happier if you just left me alone, Jackson."

"Your wish is my command." The taunt in his words belied their meaning.

In long, angry strides Jackson crossed the distance to the door and slammed it shut behind him.

"Let's just see if you can handle what you wished for!" Even though his voice was muffled, the sarcasm in it was as clear as a bell.

Then the light went out, turning the room pitch black.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Keefe was exhausted. The attack on Rippner's safehouse and the disappearance of its inhabitants had been almost 20 hours ago and still there was no sign of them. He, Whitley and all the other agents involved had been working non-stop since, frantically searching for clues and connections. For the millionth time, he went over the events in his mind and regretted ever getting Lisa Reisert involved.

The fact that three furious people had been yelling at him for the last forty-five minutes didn't help at all.

Keefe himself had spoken to Lisa Reisert's parents and two close friends about the phony abduction and he had assured them not to worry - Lisa was with them and she was safe and nothing bad whatsoever could happen to her. They had given their prepared statements to the police and everything was fine.

Unfortunately, when the very real attack on the safehouse took place, there had been an eyewitness with a camera and somehow, a picture had ended up in the news. It was a blurry shot of a dark-clad, hooded person carrying an unconscious and bleeding female into a van. That alone wouldn't have been so bad, but Lisa Reisert had immediately been identified by her family and friends thanks to the shirt she had been wearing at the time of the kidnap. After calling his office innumerable times, they had obviously decided that there was strength to be found in numbers and had personally come down to see him.

Joe Reisert waved a cell phone at him. "You tell Lisa's mother where her daughter is _right now_ or God help me," he pointed at Marc Whitley who had tried to help while actually making matters worse, "I'm going to take _this_ arrogant little shit and start smacking him around!"

There was a stream of shrill words coming from the phone, mingling with the assorted accusations that the three people present kept throwing at him.

Keefe rubbed his forehead. "Mr. Reisert, please. I can assure you –"

"With all due respect, sir, you have assured enough." Jay's angry voice cut in. "It was plain to see that Lisa was bleeding … or are you trying to say that was all part of the assignment?"

"And what was that assignment, anyway? Lisa is a smart girl, but we all know she has buttons that should never be pushed - and damn you if you did! What did you make her do?" Lisa's father paced the room, his body bristling with anger.

Cynthia took a deep breath and turned to Keefe, "Sir, I'm willing to believe that you would never intentionally let Lisa get hurt. That means that whatever happened was not part of your plan, which in turn means that you cannot state with certainty that she is okay! Am I right?"

Whitley tried to step in again, but was interrupted with a "Shut up, bitch, nobody's talking to you!" from Jay who put his arm around Cynthia when he realized she was close to tears.

"Mr. Keefe, you are clearly not able to give us any reliable piece of information on neither my daughter's current whereabouts, nor her state of health. Don't jerk us around, we've come too far for that."

"Mr. Reisert, I am not trying to 'jerk you around'. The problem is that the whole operation is classified and before you charge me with forcing your daughter into it, she joined it out of her own free will." Keefe nodded at Whitley. "Mr. Whitley is witness to this and will tell you just as I am that Ms. Reisert was familiar with the implications."

"So she knew for a fact that you would be unable to keep her out of harm's way?" Joe Reisert bellowed. "'Free will' is a fine idea, but very hard to define in your circles and don't even try to argue otherwise!" He brought his fist down on the table. "Lisa was finished with you and your agents and your secret crap, she had a good job and she was going on with her life. She would never, ever risk that on a whim!"

Jay gave Cynthia one last squeeze and focused on Keefe again. "Lisa would have never joined your little operation if she hadn't been one hundred percent sure nobody else could do the job. Someone gave her that idea and I think that was you." He snorted. "So much for your free will theory."

Once more, the room drowned in angry noise.

Whitley joined his superior's side and put up his hands. "Everybody calm down, please. Yes, Ms. Reisert's help was imperative for this mission and she was aware of that. We needed her to catch a big, important fish and …"

A loud thud made them turn. It was Cynthia, who had collapsed to the floor and was now sitting there, staring at them wide-eyed. "Oh no … please no. Oh my God, oh my God, ohmygodohmygodohmygod. It's Jackson Rippner, isn't it?"

Lisa's father helped her back up and ushered her to a chair.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Whitley exchanged a quick glance with Keefe. "Rippner's dead - Mr. Reisert himself saw the grave. Mr. Reisert, please speak up here."

Jay regarded Cynthia with a confused frown. "That can't be, Cyn."

"Don't you see! This is like a damn sequel and the bad guy _always_ comes back!" She massaged her temples, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He was the one thing that haunted her and he must be whatever drove her back into this whole mess." Cynthia looked up, her tone almost desperate. "Don't you see?"

Joe Reisert tenderly stroked her hair and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Allright, allright, honey, it's okay. Just to put our minds at ease, Mr. Keefe …" For a moment, he found himself transported back into days long gone when he would hold his little baby girl by the hand in a doctor's office, telling her that the shot wouldn't hurt at all. Was this how it felt to have one's heart broken? "… Rippner's dead and has nothing to do with it, right?"

Keefe was an experienced politician and a natural talent at clouding facts with fiction, but he made the fundamental mistake of considering to tell them the truth for only the fraction of a second. Yet, that was all Lisa's father needed and with a loud cry, he launched himself at the Chief of Homeland Security.

"You bastard! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DAUGHTER!"

Whitley immediately jumped to restrain him, but was hindered by Cynthia who tore at his shirt while screaming for him to get off Joe Reisert. Jay, on the other hand, was trying to get a grip on Lisa's father to pull him away – not necessarily to aid Keefe, but he feared Joe might suffer a stroke if not stopped eventually.

The commotion had apparently alerted a couple of agents outside, because after a loud bang, the room was suddenly filled with shouts and people. Two of them restrained Joe Reisert, two others grabbed Jay and Whitley himself managed to free himself of Cynthia, who kicked him one last time, just for good measure.

Keefe looked around with narrowed eyes. "Mr. Reisert, you pull another stunt like that and I'll have you arrested." His gaze shifted to Cynthia and Jay. "The lot of you. Is that understood?"

The three of them nodded in unison, throats dry.

He added with an annoyed sigh, "Don't make me regret this." and gestured for the agents to release them. "Everybody who just came in, leave now and close the door behind you. Thank you."

Keefe then took his time smoothing down his shirt, checking his suit for tear and rifling through one of the cupboards for drinks. "You are dancing on razorblades here. Water? … Whiskey? … No?" He sat down and pulled a large file out of one of the drawers. "I don't suppose this is news to you, but Lisa Reisert is a hero - and the only reason I'm willing to give you _anything_ is because of her."

Lisa's father opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut when he received a warning glance from Whitley.

"You get fifteen more minutes of my time, but that's it. I insist you leave this building afterwards and don't come back except if asked to do so. I don't need to tell you that all this is strictly confidential, so keep it to yourselves and yourselves only." The harsh tone in his voice lost a little of its edge. "I will let you know as soon as I have news."

In brisk words, Keefe gave them a very general account of the operation and Lisa's role in it. He showed them plans of the safehouse, pictures taken after the attack on it and even a photo of Jackson Rippner from his time in custody.

Exactly fifteen minutes later they were escorted out the door and blinked their eyes against the bright sun.

It was Cynthia who spoke first. "So where do we start?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's note: **Oh man, that was a hard chapter to write and I hope it doesn't show too much.. Please let me know what you think, (constructive) criticism is always, always welcome.Thanks for all the kind reviews so far, you guys are simply amazing!

Oh, and I must be the dumbest person on earth, but if someone could tell me how I can use the combination exclamation mark and question mark in a text (it gets deleted all the time), I'd be much obliged ...

**Chapter 17**

Lisa didn't know how many hours she had already spent alone in her new prison, but it must have been at least five or six. Pride kept her from calling for Jackson to let her out, but she wasn't sure how much more she could stomach - her back was itching and she was thirsty and miserable.

Soon after he had left her, she had taken off the mattress cover and wrapped it around her body before drifting into a restless slumber that was riddled with nightmares. Even awake she had tossed and turned, a million thoughts in her head.

Now, in the dark, Lisa made a few timid steps around the room just to keep her mind occupied and she flinched when her outstretched arms touched the cold chains. For about half an hour she fumbled around with growing frustration before sitting back down in her corner. Lisa was at her wit's end.

Sudden light blinded her and Jackson came in, carrying a tray with food and water. Standing in the door frame, he looked at her for a few seconds and his blue stare made her dig her fingers into her makeshift garment.

"Hungry?" His voice was icy and his eyes even more so.

"Yes."

"I'll be setting this down in front of you, but don't even think about kicking or punching me or whatever it is you're pondering in that stubborn head of yours. I swear there'll be hell to pay - don't test me, Leese."

"I'm not going to attack you, Jackson." Lisa grimaced when she put the tray on her lap and leaned back, the wall scraping her sore skin.

Cherry must have been waiting outside, because Lisa heard the lock turn.

Jackson took a seat on the mattress next to her. "When you're done, I'll check out the cuts."

They didn't speak any more while she ate. Lisa found herself chewing the last piece of meat over and over again, in a way too scared to swallow it down and finish her meal. It would ring in the next round in that awful game they seemed to play.

"I think you're done."

Lisa sighed - there was no getting away from him, was there? She set the tray aside.

"What am I going to do with you, Leese?" Jackson sounded distracted, which startled her. "So far you have shown nothing but resistance and an unwillingness to comply, which is ironic, because you have no clue about this whole thing and I am your safest bet."

"That's not the truth, Jackson, and you know it. I have complied with everything that was asked of me. The only problem we seem to have is that I feel my safest bet would be Whi-"

He cut her short impatiently. "Are you guys having an affair or something?"

"What!"

"Whitley this, Whitley that, yaddayaddayadda. I'd like to think that of all people, _you_ would take offence to the way he treated you." He raised his brows.

"What do you mean?"

"If I remember correctly, requiring and ensuring your help in order to get stuff done is something you don't take well to. And I saw the way he made you stay in that corridor - I knew you didn't like it and so did he, believe me." The expression on his face was that of mock surprise that she appeared to have missed out on an important lesson. "Didn't stop him, though, did it?"

Lisa snorted in reply. "Are you trying to tell me that what you wanted on the plane and what he wants now is the same thing?"

"Not the ultimate goal, but the means."

"You forget that he threatened noone. Not me, not my family."

"He didn't have to. Keefe and Whitley knew exactly which buttons they had to push - but does that make it any better?"

"Are we having a philosophical discussion here or what's your point?"

"My point is," Jackson drew out the words, "that you can never trust anybody just because they work 'for the government'. The government merely happens to believe in different things, but they are equally reckless in protecting their interests as … other entities are. In the greater scheme of things, Leese, you are collateral damage. All you need to focus on is the immediate problem and what it means for you."

"My immediate problem is that I am held captive by the same person who tried to kill me a year ago. Who might very well try to kill me again once I have served my purpose, whatever that may be." Lisa's hands were curled into fists, knuckles white.

"Now we're getting somewhere. Turn around." Jackson rolled his eyes when Lisa didn't react and stared at him instead. "Turn around, let me have a look."

"Can't Cherry … ?"

"She has other things to do, so it's either me or nobody. Unless of course you are a contortionist and can do it yourself."

Hesitantly, Lisa did as told and loosened the covers she had wrapped around herself, twisting her head to see what he was up to.

"Cherry did a good job cleaning, nothing's inflamed. I'm just going to dab on this ointment which will calm your skin and stop the itching." Jackson exhaled slowly. "I got you pretty bad there."

"Yes, you did."

For a second, Lisa thought he might apologize, but he kept silent, fingers dancing swiftly and lightly across her back. She started to relax, enjoying the cool sensation that spread wherever Jackson touched her and she bent her knees, resting her head on them with half-closed eyes.

When she heard him chuckle, Lisa realized he must have stopped a while ago and sat up quickly, angry with herself for letting her guard down so easily.

Jackson looked at her with a faint smirk on his face, only this time it was almost friendly. "About your immediate problem … the reason I took you along without asking was that you would have never agreed to come." Lisa wanted to protest. "Don't argue, Leese. I am aware of the fact that Whitley's your golden boy, even though he did nothing but wave a badge around."

"It's not only that, Jackson, and you know it."

"That's the thing with you, you can never let go."

"Not as a rule, but when people try to kill me, I make sure and remember that next time I see them, yes."

"Be that as it may, Whitley kept screwing up and I don't understand why you can't at least admit _that_ to yourself. You saw his monkeys loitering around the house and I think you were just as excited as I was about the microphones. Am I right?"

"Jackson, it's complicated, I -"

"No, you're _making_ it complicated. Come on, it's a yes or no question."

Lisa just shook her head and he took her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. When she tried to yank free, Jackson held on tighter, eyes narrowed. "Don't."

"Y-yes." Lisa glared at him. "You know, Jackson, you're just pushing buttons, too."

"I never said it would be easy." He gave her a crooked smile and Lisa frowned when she felt his thumb run along her jaw. "Now that we've clarified that, let's continue with our pop quiz: would you really want Whitley to be the guy to have around once things get complicated? When the pressure's on?"

It was dangerous territory. Deep down in her heart Lisa knew she agreed with him, but saying it out loud might change things. She was not at all sure whether she would be able to cope with that.

Jackson seemed to sense her dilemma, because he leaned in, staring at her in strange solemnity. With one hand Lisa held on to the covers and tried to push him away with the other, but he seized her wrist and twisted it down carefully. "Answer me." It sounded patient, but she knew better.

It was barely a whisper. "No, I wouldn't." Lisa closed her eyes in defeat. When she opened them again a second or two later, Jackson was still looking at her, a light spark dancing in his baby blues.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's note:** Thanks again for the great reviews. Chsimmons, you are way too kind :-)

**Chapter 18**

For the longest moment they were merely staring at each other, caught in each others' eyes. Once she felt safe enough Lisa tried to disengage from his hold, but Jackson responded by increasing the pressure.

"On my terms, Leese."

"Is this a control issue?" She tilted her head in the direction of the chains. "Because I think we've established that at present, you have the upper hand."

"And yet, you're still fighting me."

"I always will, Jackson."

Deliberately, he eased his grip on her, slowly skimming along her skin with his fingertips until she was eventually free of his touch. Jackson leaned back and regarded her quizzically. "As much as that annoys the hell out of me, I respect it to a certain degree. The problem is that you're not helping matters - quite the opposite, actually."

"What are your plans then?"

"Basically, they haven't changed. I will contact my associates, collect the information Keefe wants and get out."

"So what _has_ changed?"

"They won't know shit about my whereabouts during the operation for one thing, which makes it a lot safer. Also, I won't enter the witness protection program afterwards and disappear on my own instead."

Lisa managed to keep her voice steady. "What about me?"

"That's the big question, isn't it?"

"I've always wondered about that … you never exactly _needed_ me to participate, so why get me involved at all?"

"That's vintage Leese right there." Jackson shook his head. "How about you just focus on the subject at hand? Keep the rest for the cozy fireplace talk at the end of the day - you know, once work is finished."

"Fine."

"Aw, don't be mad. We're getting to you, not to worry ..."

Lisa trusted neither his calm voice nor the faint ring of peace in the air, so she went on before he had the chance to. "You still need me, Jackson, I'm your leverage against Whitley and Keefe. Whatever you may think about their interests and how they are willing to protect them, they will hold back as long as you have me." Only that this wasn't his main concern, was it? "It gives you a certain freedom."

He laughed softly in reply.

Lisa couldn't exactly define how and that maddened her, but Jackson was different. It made her nervous, too. "What?"

"You are so the old Lisa Reisert and yet an entirely new animal at the same time. I take credit for that."

"You do?"

"If we hadn't met, you'd be burnt out by now, that iron shell around you getting smaller and smaller until you would have finally and pathetically choked to death on your own fear."

Even though she tried to ignore the anger that was curling in the pit of her stomach, the words came out strained nonetheless. "Do you expect a thank you note? Better hold on there, Jackson, because you got a whole 'nother thing coming."

"Are you threatening me, Leese?" He sounded amused rather than vitriolic.

"I don't know … I don't know what I'm doing." She rubbed her forehead. "What do you want from me?" In her mind, Lisa was desperately searching for some way of pushing him, forcing him to play his hand. "I don't buy the civil Jackson act at all, by the way."

"That's your decision."

She got up and started to pace the room while he was watching her impassively from his place on the mattress. "Tell me, damnit."

"Say please."

"Fuck you."

"Do you _want_ me to get angry? Because if that's what it takes, Leese, just say the words and I'll accommodate you accordingly." Jackson couldn't have been more indifferent if he tried.

"As you have stated earlier, it's always on your terms and frankly, I'm sick of that."

He brushed her argument aside like an annoying fly. "Let's talk facts, shall we? If you consider yourself unable to do so at this point in time, I'll leave you to your room", Jackson made a sweeping gesture with his arm, "and we do it later."

She massaged her temples in an effort to keep the impending headache at bay. "Are you going to turn off the light again?"

His voice was dry. "If it helps. It's really up to you."

Lisa sat back down, a safe distance to him. "Go on."

He looked at her. "We could profit from each other, I can still use your assistance. However, there's one condition: you'll have to give in to me."

"Excuse me? 'Give in to you'?"

"Accept my authority, follow me … whatever term floats your boat. We need to be absolutely clear on one thing: this is delicate ground we're treading on and for a change, it's not me who represents danger - I want to get out of this alive as much as you do. Running to Whitley once things get tough will unequivocally kill us both."

"Are you asking me for help?"

"No, I'm giving you a choice again."

"The choice between going with Whitley or going with you, no questions asked?"

"Correct."

"And if I said yes to you, you could and would trust me?"

He scrutinized her with an intensity that almost made her squirm. "I could and would trust the fact that you are smart. You are aware of the consequences if this project fails."

Lisa fiddled with the covers, her head so full she was afraid it might explode. She sensed Jackson's eyes on her, assessing her posture, her facial expression, and pressed her lips together into a thin line. "When do you need the answer?"

"Anywhere between now and the next ten seconds." He coughed. "So?"

"So … I wouldn't be surprised in the least if you suddenly grew a forked tongue and offered me an apple."

"A charming picture, yet completely irrelevant to the situation."

Lisa paused, trying to sort through that cacophony of worries, objections and the occasional approval swirling in her brain. "No more pulling me, Jackson, or pushing me or yanking me. You don't own me."

"Is that a yes?"

"Is _that_ a yes?"

"I can't guarantee it one hundred percent … it doesn't exactly depend on me alone, you know."

She realized this was the closest thing to an affirmation she would ever get from him and sighed. "I'll stick with you." Detesting the shaky tone, Lisa cleared her throat and met Jackson's eyes head-on. "We have a deal."

"Peachy." He shook her hand and stood up, pulling her with him. "Let's get ready then."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Jackson knocked on the door and it opened, a smiling Cherry stepping aside for them to pass. "Hi there. How is your back, Lisa?"

The absurdity of the situation ignited Lisa's polite reflexes, courtesy of years in the hotel business. "It's okay, thanks." She wondered how things would have gone if her and Jackson hadn't been able to agree on the deal. Would Cherry still be smiling? Or would she have calmly watched on while Jackson did whatever he would have done? Helped him, even?

Cherry led the way upstairs, followed by Lisa and then Jackson. It couldn't be anything but another safehouse as it was practically bare with only a few pieces of strictly practical furniture and not a hint of personality.

In a row they walked through a fairly long corridor, passing the entrance on the way and Lisa couldn't help but turn her head, an escape scenario burning through her thoughts like wildfire. Immediately, she felt a pang of guilt - like a cheater being caught - and she inhaled deeply before staring straight ahead.

"Good girl." The sing-song in his words held no small amount of mockery. "If you keep this up, we might actually have something."

It took a lot of willpower, but Lisa managed to swallow down her reply.

"Fantastic! If only you could have been like that on the plane, we wouldn't be here."

Lisa stopped dead in her tracks and faced him with a withering glare.

Jackson actually had the nerve to pout. "Oh no, don't give me hope and then take it away from me, that's just plain cruel."

It came out a hiss. "Tell me, do you _want_ me to get angry? Because if that's what it takes, _Jack_, just say the words and I'll accommodate you accordingly."

"Careful, Leese, or I'll push you. Maybe even yank you … my personal favorite."

Lisa squared her shoulders. "Just you try."

"Should I organize some boxing gloves or can we proceed with business?" Cherry was obviously going for indifferent, but couldn't quite hide the snicker in her voice.

Jackson gave Lisa one last insolent grin before he shrugged it off and motioned for her to continue walking. Together they entered a living room that was crammed with boxes, electronic equipment, clothes and … Lisa's small suitcase. Everything was there! Even the TC shirt in all its neon glory, a bit worse for wear, but still - Lisa was ecstatic.

"If you need a bathroom - second one on the left." Cherry pointed towards the hall.

Lisa felt like a bird that had been trapped for too long and was now looking at the open cage door with cautious confusion. Was she really free to move around?

"Whatever you need to do in there, I suggest you get it done quickly, because we'll be leaving in about fifteen minutes," Jackson said with his back to her, rifling through one of the boxes. He must have heard her take a breath to ask a question, as he raised his voice. "Fourteen."

Lisa grabbed some clothes and her vanity bag and set a new personal record. In eleven minutes, she was showered and dressed and got back just in time to see Jackson pack several guns and knives into a black bag. She froze.

"Lisa?" Cherry beckoned her to come over. "Are you ready? Do you have everything you need?"

Lisa nodded weakly in reply, still shaken by the realization that had hit her full force in the doorway. "It's going to be Jackson and me on our own - you're not coming with us, are you?"

"Of course not, don't be silly. This is your job, I'm only the supplier." The other woman gave her a quick smile and touched her arm. "You'll do okay."

She held out a small purse and Lisa went through its contents. A set of keys, a driver's license, a passport, a wallet with some cash and a credit card … all in the name of Sarah Maria Lake and all with her picture on them.

"Good luck, Sarah." Cherry grabbed a suitcase and gestured for Lisa to take hers. "Let's get this show on the road."

Together the two walked down another corridor into the garage. A black Lincoln Sedan with tainted windows stood there, dimly lit by a fading light bulb.

"Just put the suitcase down, Jackson alone knows where everything is supposed to go." Cherry opened the passenger door.

Slowly, Lisa stepped around the car to her seat. _This is it_. She was just about to speak when Cherry cut her off with a grin.

"Don't say 'Thanks for everything.' unless you honestly mean it."

Lisa smiled sadly and got in without a word. The thud of the door gave her a jolt and for a moment, she struggled for breath, heart beating like a drum. Through the rearview mirror she saw Jackson enter the garage and take a cell phone from Cherry. Her vision was blocked when he opened the trunk to put the bags inside and she felt a shiver creep up her spine. _This is really it_.

Once he was done, the two business partners exchanged a few last sentences which Lisa couldn't understand. They hugged briefly, but friendly, and Jackson was smiling in a way that reminded Lisa of the TexMex. Cherry then waved at her before she turned around and left.

Jackson got comfortable on the driver's seat, toying with the keys. "Here we are … at the beginning of a new adventure."

The garage door opened and Lisa put on her sunglasses. "I can hardly wait."

They drove into the sunshine. It was like any other street she had ever known - kids playing, grown-ups talking on the sidewalk, a gas station with a small, dingy 7/11 on the corner … all so familiar, yet Lisa had never felt more removed from this world as she did now in the Lincoln, with Jackson steering her towards an unknown destination.

Jackson turned on the radio. "Did you say thanks to Cherry?"

"No."

"You should have, she risked an awful lot for me … for us, actually." He flipped through the stations until he had found the news channel. "Whitley has already contacted her and she's scheduled to go in today."

"What's gonna happen to her?"

Jackson seemed unfazed. "Not much, I suppose. She has two advantages: one, she's good and two, she doesn't exactly look like a weapons dealer."

"What if they find out she's involved?" All things put aside, Cherry had been kind to her and Lisa wouldn't forget it.

He paused for a second. "She'll be in deep shit."

"You sound concerned."

With his eyes on the road, Jackson pursed his lips. "Maybe."

"You looked like friends saying good bye." Lisa was determined not to let it go.

"Leese, it's impossible to survive on your own in my line of work. Everybody I know who bought that lone wolf crap from the movies is now either dead or as good as." They had stopped at a red light and he shifted his gaze to her. "Fact is, you need reliable backup, someone who always has your back, who you can trust."

"And for you, that's Cherry." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. Don't get overexcited, though, we're both pros." The memory painted a slight smirk onto his lips. "You could never pressure me by threatening her like I could pressure you with, say, Cynthia or Jay."

"I know."

He frowned impatiently. "What's that tone?"

"Pity."

Lisa leaned her head against the window and completely ignored whatever biting remark he spat at her. The outside world went by in a rush, but for Lisa, time had stopped.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

They drove through the outskirts of Washington until they were on the freeway and then into the city, battling traffic turn after turn. Lisa tried to focus, to push herself to pay attention, but completely lost her sense of direction after a while. She suspected that was Jackson's intention, but she was beyond caring.

_Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be_. She had always hated the song, its syrupy melody as much as the cheesy lyrics, but Lisa hummed along anyway. There was nothing she could do at this point except to stay sane and regain some of her strength while Jackson brought them to their hideout.

Ever since their brief talk about Cherry he had been stubbornly quiet, concentrating on the road and the radio. Sometimes she sensed his eyes on her in a silent challenge, but she let it pass without a word. Lisa knew it pissed him off and she was glad she had finally found a way to win. A petty victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Daylight was starting to fade when they reached their destination. It was a tall building just outside Washington, a modern office complex without a single name plate to be seen. After sliding an ID card into a slot, they drove into the garage and straight to a numbered parking space by the elevator. Lisa noted that Jackson lined up the car with its back to the wall as if to ensure an easy getaway.

"Is this a fortress? Where are the security cameras?" Lisa looked around.

Jackson had used the ID card again to call for the elevator and now had to enter a code before being able to press the button for the first floor. No names here, either, just numbers.

"There are different kinds of fortresses. Some require an extensive collection of security cameras, others rather desist to ensure privacy for clients."

The first door on the right seemed to be their place. Jackson used his keys to gain entrance and ushered her in. "Home, sweet home."

The first thing Lisa noticed was the impressive collection of electronic equipment, most of which she didn't recognize and couldn't for the life of her figure out what it might do. The second thing was a change in Jackson himself – it was as if someone had turned a switch. He bustled around unpacking his bags, setting up even more equipment and was wading through cables with barely masked glee.

Lisa shrugged and explored on her own. Apart from the main one there was a small additional room with a comfortable couch, a TV and a kitchenette and a bathroom. She frowned … where was she supposed to stay?

"Over here." Jackson's voice startled her. "The TV room is mine."

Lisa went back into the main room and raised her eyebrows. Over where?

With a small grin that couldn't completely mask the pride, Jackson hit a key on his laptop and the wall on one side slid apart, disclosing a windowless space that was about the same size as a decent walk-in closet. The furniture consisted of a thick mattress and a naked light bulb dangling from the ceiling.

Lisa sighed. "Okay, where do I hide my things?"

"Yeah, I changed my mind about that. When you were supposedly taken to the federal office in Miami, you might have packed some stuff - nobody can tell, really. It can stay with you." Jackson turned to his laptop. "I have work to do, so leave me alone. Get comfortable. But," he tossed her the dreaded handcuffs, "keep these nearby."

Lisa rolled her eyes and put the suitcase in her new "room", effectively taking up the last free space. It was claustrophobic. After thinking about it for a few seconds, she dropped the handcuffs onto the mattress. She would have to run here, anyway, so better to leave them right where she'd need them. Screw Jackson.

She walked back to the kitchenette and went through the cabinets. Grabbing some soda and chips Lisa settled down on the couch and turned on the TV. She listlessly flipped through the channels for a while, drifting in and out of some sort of exhausted stupor until she decided to stick with the shopping channel.

A ton of infomercials later, Jackson suddenly stood by the couch. "Fascinating. Come on, I want to show you something."

The main room had undergone an amazing transformation. Chaos had been replaced by order, the cables were sorted, bound and hooked up and the equipment was neatly stored either on the shelves or around the large desk in the middle. Like a spider in its electronic web, a large black box underneath the table was thrumming contently, apparently connected to all.

Lisa whistled. "Impressive."

"Thanks." Jackson sat down by the desk and patted the other chair. "I contacted Whitley and have received a reply."

Lisa took a seat. "Can't they trace your IP address?"

"Not this one, they can't."

Carefully, he pushed the laptop towards her and Lisa read through Whitley's mail. It mostly consisted of threats, accusations and questions about their whereabouts. Lisa's safety was also featured prominently.

"I want you to answer that you are here out of your own free will, that you are safe and unhurt. You know the drill … convince him."

Lisa's fingers hovered over the keyboard, unable to press a single key. What were you supposed to write under these circumstances? Should she give a general account of the past few days and ask for understanding? Or keep it short and chipper? The fact that Jackson was practically breathing down her neck didn't make it any easier. In the end, Lisa decided on a medium length, concise message she kept editing over and over again to make it sound natural and confident.

The part Whitley had played in her decision was incredibly hard to express and after a while, Lisa grunted in frustration. "Stop snorting, this is difficult enough!"

"Are you afraid you might hurt his feelings?" Jackson snickered.

"Let's just agree to disagree here, okay? You think he's an idiot and I don't."

"Whitley _is _an idiot, but actually a quite talented one - he was just the wrong man for the job. No need to sugarcoat that."

"I'm not sugarcoating." Lisa was radiating impatience. "Go sort some more cables."

Jackson made a show out of checking his watch. "Finish the damn thing already."

Lisa fiddled around for a few more minutes until she was satisfied with the words and she hoped that her message would buy them enough freedom for Jackson to feel comfortable. More for her own benefit than for his – Jackson on edge was something she wanted to avoid if at all possible.

"Well done." He read through her message and corrected a minor spelling error which irked her to no end. "Let's see what they have to say to that."

Lisa regarded him quizzically. "Why are you doing this?"

Jackson cast her a bored glance. "Letting you write to Whitley?"

"No, _this_ - ratting out your former employers. Why not get out while you still can?"

"Because then I'd have _two_ kinds of enemies coming after me. Believe me, if I were to cross Keefe now, he'd spread the news that I have turned faster than you could sob 'Please don't h-hurt my daddy.'"

Red fog descended on her thoughts, but Lisa refused to take the bait. "And you think Keefe won't do that as long as you're good?"

Jackson cocked his head in reply. "I'll have to take my chances. Either way, the life I had is ruined anyhow and thanks for that, by the way."

Lisa met his eyes unwaveringly and her voice was cool, controlled. "Thank yourself, Jackson, I didn't ask for any of this."

"Trouble just seems to follow you around, doesn't it?" He toyed with a pen, a small, amused smile playing across his features.

"Only that this time, it's me following trouble." Lisa shrugged and got up. "Good night, Jackson."

For a second, it looked as if he would try to keep the conversation going, but then an incoming mail caught his attention. "Get some rest, Leese." Jackson turned the laptop towards him and stared at the message. "We're officially on."


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's note:** Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, they really make my day. I had a lot of issues to work through with this story and without wanting to jinx it in any way, I think I have now. Special thanks (in no particular order) to First Noelle, Royalty09 and emptyvoices for their encouragement and humor.

**Chapter 21**

Turning away, Lisa managed to steal a quick glance at the message and its very first line made her blood run cold. _Congratulations on the show opener, old friend. Killed her yet?_

Mechanically, she trudged into the bathroom, going through the motions while being oddly detached from herself. Afterwards she curled up on her mattress and merely shook her head when Jackson, who was still sitting in front of his laptop, asked her whether he should close "the door".

Lisa wondered faintly why she couldn't feel a thing. Jackson hammered into the keyboard, sometimes getting up and grabbing folders from the shelves, and she watched him, but it hardly touched her consciousness. On every clear surface in the room memories played out like a movie on a screen until there were too many to follow and the voices turned into white noise. Lisa saw Jackson mouth a few sentences, yet couldn't grasp their meaning, so she just stared at him or rather, through him.

He crossed the distance and crouched down in front of her, elbows propped on his thighs. Jackson talked to her, regarding her questioningly at first, then with a hint of annoyance and from far away, Lisa realized that his remarks were becoming hurtful, but she didn't care. He rolled his eyes and walked out, turning the main room dark on the way. From the blueish flicker of the light Lisa could tell the TV was on.

After what seemed like ages, he returned to her side and once again crouched down, staring at her intently.

"Leese. Leese!" Jackson shook her until the tremors rocked her out of that strange catatonia. "Anyone in there, Leese?"

Lisa nodded weakly in reply.

"Phew, thought I'd lost you there for a second." He pursed his lips. "Feeling down?"

Did she? She frowned in confusion.

"Okay, what you're going through right now is actually pretty natural. Do you understand?" He waited for her acknowledgement and continued, "It's the old battle: you are stressed out beyond your ability to cope, so your body responds by trying to get you to rest. That's why you feel so exhausted." He tapped her lightly on the temple. "However, the little whirly reel up here is trying to make sense of it all and won't stop turning - and I think we all know that this particular whirly reel is especially relentless. So it's a good old Mexican stand-off until one of the opponents shuts down."

Lisa's intended smile came out as more of a grimace.

"There we go." A faint, but definitely smug grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "What you need is some sleep and after that, you'll be able to tackle the world all over again. I'm gonna regret this."

His hand reached out and Lisa was surprised to feel him gently skim down her arm with the back of his fingers. She was just starting to relax when he unexpectedly jerked up her wrist and then his other hand shot forward. Lisa yelped in pain when something stung her and she tried to struggle out of his grasp.

"Sshh, it's a sedative, nothing more." He looked her over. "You're no use to me like this."

The drug seared through her veins, leaving her limbs limp and lifeless in its wake.

"Night, Leese." Jackson let go of her wrists and pressed her down onto the mattress by her shoulders. "Easy now."

Finally, Lisa closed her eyes and floated off into Morpheus' open arms.

_Once again she was diving up, but this time it wasn't frantic. Lisa forced herself to move smoothly, determined to reach the surface before the pressure could burst her from the inside out. She smiled when she saw the first rays of light pierce the water in a playful dance. _

Dawn was breaking. The blinds were shut, but she could hear birds chirping outside and Jackson breathe softly in the next room. Even though the office was dark, Lisa didn't want to turn on the light and ruin the first taste of unsupervised privacy she had gotten in far too long.

She yawned and stretched excessively before suddenly finding herself going through the old warm-up routine she used to do every day back when she was still into competitive sports. Gawd, that was ages ago. True, she was a little rusty and her lungs seemed to be short on air, but the long-forgotten sensation of relying on her body's strength and intuition excited and calmed her at the same time.

"Good morning, Jane Fonda. Doing better?"

"Yeah." Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, but she was unwilling to stop.

"I need to leave in about an hour - I should be back at noon."

"Okay." If only she could go for a jog. "Business?"

"Not going to tell you."

Jackson left her to her exercises and went into the bathroom. When he returned, he leaned against the doorframe for a while watching her silently. "I suggest you take a quick shower and get something to eat, I have to lock you in."

"Is that really necessary?" The thought of spending the entire time in that claustrophobic space made her queasy.

"Yes. Get moving."

Lisa granted herself a few more minutes to finish and got in the shower. She couldn't remember feeling this relaxed and confident ever since Keefe had called her to Washington.

Jackson's brows rocketed skywards when he saw her choice of food: coffee, scrambled eggs, bacon, buttered toast and a bowl of cereal. "Hungry much?"

"Breakfast of champions." Lisa settled on her mattress and leaned against the wall, the tray of food on her lap.

"Be good." The old smirk firm in place, Jackson winked at her and shut her in.

The hours crawled by slowly and after a while, Lisa was no longer able to ignore the familiar doubt and tension Jackson seemed to instill in her by his sheer existence. What if this was all a big trick, his revenge on her for what happened all those months ago? And even if not … what if something happened to him? Nobody knew she was here and she couldn't get out on her own.

Lisa tried everything, the relaxation exercises her therapist had recommended, thinking about her family and friends, reading, but nothing could dispel the heavy dread that was seeping into her body and mind.

Just when she was about to start pounding the wall in frustration, she heard the apartment door open with a click and held her breath. _Please let that be him._

The wall slid apart and with a barely suppressed cry, Lisa propelled herself forward into the openness of the room. Free!

"Hello Leese." Jackson regarded her with amusement. "Miss me?"

Lisa's heart was beating rapidly. "Not you, just the ability to move around."

"Better get used to it. We have an appointment this afternoon and you'll stay in your room until then."

"Who's coming?"

"That's none of your business." He turned away from her.

"Hold it right there, Jackson." Lisa detested the shrillness in her own voice. "It is very much my business and don't even try to argue otherwise."

"What do you want me to tell you? Names? You wouldn't recognize them and we should keep it that way. Who they work for? What they want? Don't burden yourself with unnecessary knowledge, you couldn't stand it."

"I will be the judge of that."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but no - _l_ will be the judge of that." He tossed her a bag. "Here, I brought you something."

It was a skipping rope and some weights.

"You should work out more often, it does wonders for your temper."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Jackson turned to leave.

"HEY." All the frustration and fear inside screamed for release and Lisa knew just the person to blast it with. "Don't you dare walk away from me like that."

"What are you going to do about it?"

She stalked over and stopped just an inch or two before him, fire in her eyes.

Jackson looked down on her, the corners of his mouth comfortably settled in a provocative grin. "Don't start something you can't finish, Leese."

"What makes you think I can't finish this?"

"Past experience."

"That's funny, Jackson." Her smirk was a dead ringer for his. "But wasn't that you though that was lying on the floor at my dad's house? Or do I have you confused with someone else?"

"No pen, no heels, no hockey stick. But hey, _I_ got a weapon, look here." Deliberately, Jackson lifted one side of his suit jacket to reveal the knife sheath attached to his belt. Lisa froze and with a patronizing snort Jackson took her by the shoulders and started walking her into the closet backwards.

Lisa pushed at his chest. "Stop it."

"So the no-pushing-policy is a one way street?"

Once more, Jackson reached out for her, but Lisa shoved him - a lot harder this time. "What is wrong with you! _Stop_ it."

"Why the hell do you insist on forcing me to prove my point?" With one swift move, he grabbed her by her wrist, yanked her around and twisted her arm. When Lisa kicked him, he grunted and crashed his knee into the inside of her thigh, forcing her legs apart. His free hand snaked around her throat until he had her in a loose stranglehold. Jackson breathed into her neck. "I say I won this fair and square."

No fear, just anger. "I say you let me go right now."

"I highly doubt you -"

"Right. Now. Jackson." Lisa was seething with barely controlled temper.

"Or you'll do what to me?" He was almost singing the words. "Maybe you're not mad enough this time - let me think about what I can do for you there. Always out to help, you see, that's just the kind of person I am."

Jackson chuckled softly. Like a feather, his mouth brushed the tender spot right behind her ear once … twice. He lingered on it with slightly parted lips and Lisa could feel his smile spread against her skin. Clicking his tongue, Jackson nudged her with his nose, cheek buried in her hair. "Tell me, Lisa, when was the last time someone has ever gotten this close to you to?" He nipped at her earlobe.

It ignited a ball of bright fury in her chest that avalanched with lightening speed. Cursing, Lisa pushed herself backwards with all her might. The move sent them both tumbling against the wall and the momentum of her weight drove the air out of Jackson's lungs. She immediately knocked her head back up into his chin and heard his teeth chatter with grim satisfaction. Lisa pulled away, twisting out of his grasp and turned to face him with raised fists like a boxer in the ring. Alright then.

Jackson's laughter gave her a jolt. He was leaning casually against the wall, bleeding from his lip, but his expression confused her. If anybody else had looked at her that way, Lisa would have called it reluctant pride, but surely Jackson wasn't proud of her, was he?

Her jaw was so clenched, it hurt. "What the hell was that, Jackson?"

"Curiosity." He, on the other hand, sounded hardly strained.

"You did this to me because you were _curious_!"

Jackson tilted his head and his smile broadened. "Always wanted to know."

Lisa wasn't sure what to say to that and damnit, she actually blushed. Instinctively, her hand went up to wipe at the spot where he had touched her.

Jackson was now beaming like the Cheshire Cat. "Come on, let's agree on an hour out, then back into your room."

"No." Her knuckles turned white. "I want to know what's going on first."

"Jesus, Leese!" Finally, even Jackson seemed to lose his cool. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe there's a reason to what I'm doing? That _maybe_ – and here's a thought – it would actually really be better for you to know less?"

"Don't do that, Jackson, don't try and paint me as the victim."

"I'm not! Leese, you -"

"We made a deal, I'm your _partner_. Treat me like one! I'm not asking about your past, I'm not asking for trade secrets. All I want is to know what's going on."

Jackson smoothed down his shirt. "I could just knock you out and that would be the end of it."

"You probably could, but I'd make your life a living hell. If you thought Leese on the plane was demanding, better strap on your seatbelt, honey, because it's gonna be a wild ride." Jay would have loved this, bless him.

"Did you just call me 'honey'?"

"I believe I did, sweetie."

He stepped forward. "Danger zone, Leese."

Lisa stayed right where she was. "Aww, that was nothing but a taste, _baby_."

Another step. "Stop that."

"Tell me, Jackson, just tell me. Don't reduce me to 'the victim' here, I can't stand it!"

For a moment the two merely stared at each other without another word and Lisa continued to reason with him through her eyes. Apparently, something in Jackson understood.

He nodded curtly into the direction of the kitchen and went ahead, not looking back at her. Lisa followed and sat down on one of the bar stools, watching him wash the blood off his lip. Jackson then tossed the towel aside and turned to her, leaning against the counter on outstretched arms, fingers tapping.

"My associates are interested, but want to check me out to see if I'm still any good."

"How?"

"Basically, I have to go through a job interview. They'll grill me about the Keefe job, about my absence, about what happened since."

"And what if you fail the interview?"

"They'll kill me … us." Jackson ran his hand through his hair. "This afternoon I will have the first of many business meetings. If everything goes as planned, I will be able to update my contact list, hand it over to Whitley and get out."

Lisa entwined her fingers so he couldn't see her trembling. "And today, who's -"

"My ex trainer. If we manage to convince him, everything else might just fall into place." Jackson exhaled slowly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "The thing is, that guy is an almost preternaturally gifted judge of character. We better be good."

"What do I do?"

"That's hard to tell in advance, I don't know yet what he'll require _me_ to do. All I can say is follow my lead under any circumstances. Get yourself worked up, so you're nice and terrified when he sees you. And for heaven's sake, don't talk."

He told her the cover up story he had prepared and fiddling with her ring, Lisa memorized it, eternally grateful for her training as a hotel manager whose life depended on miniscule details. When he was done, she nodded and got up.

It obviously took him by surprise. "Where are you going?"

"To my room."

Jackson shot her a long sidelong glance, an unfamiliar glitter in his eyes. "My proposal still stands. You don't have to … yet."


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's note:** Thanks for the great reviews on the last chapter, I was really happy you guys liked it as much as you did. Lisa is definitely coming into her own, which makes writing her all the more fun.

**Chapter 23**

Something like cautious hope trickled into her heart and Lisa returned his gaze with a half-smile. "Okay." She rubbed her hands. "Anything I can help you with?"

Jackson grimaced. "Let's not take it that far."

Together they walked back into the main room where Lisa sort of hung around, quietly observing him and his preparations for the meeting. He seemed agitated, nervous even, which did nothing to lessen her own anxiety.

Also, her mind was still reeling with what had happened before. In truth, there were so many more questions Lisa had wanted to ask him, but a nagging little voice in the back of her head had shushed her, insisting that they were probably worthless. She knew too little about what was to come to ask the right ones. Curiously enough, this little voice had strangely reminded her of Jackson's.

Either way, she had stood up for herself and made her point. Jackson had accepted it and had actually made an effort to accommodate her against his own wishes. To return the favor had only seemed fair. Were they on the right track?

Jackson was rifling through a file drawer and before Lisa could stop herself she quipped, "Are those all?"

He froze mid-movement and dawning comprehension crept across his face. "This is not the time, maybe later."

"Are they?"

"Go get some food, take a shower, work out some more, I don't care. We're not talking about this now."

Lisa didn't feel the urge to fight a useless battle just for fighting's sake, so she shrugged, a little too nonchalant perhaps, because Jackson snickered and returned back to his work. It was hard, though, to stay calm, as the faint sensation of peace gradually gave way to worried fear. Time had passed quickly, her hour was almost up. All that was left for her was to get ready to fulfill her part of the deal. A coldness worked its way up her spine, vertebrae for vertebrae, bristling the hair on her neck and with a shiver, Lisa hugged herself.

"Jackson, I'm going to my room, lock the door … and turn off the light."

Jackson looked up.

_Turbulence on the plane, light flickering. That dread and nausea._

_He waved the phone at her. "I don't have to tell you to sound convincing."_

"No, you don't," she murmured.

"What?"

"You don't have to tell me to be convincing."

Lisa stretched out on her back and crossed her arms before she remembered that this was how corpses were laid out and with a dry throat, she curled up on her side. Jackson's legs entered her field of vision, coming closer and stopping just an inch before her. He crouched down with a sigh, blue eyes burning into hers in feverish determination, but he didn't speak. Neither did she. What was there to say?

He reached out to her with both hands and for a paralyzing split second, Lisa believed he was going to comfort her. A clicking sound brought her back to reality – the handcuffs. Jackson pinched her chin. "Break a leg."

Seconds later, she was alone in the darkness and this time, her destination wasn't the surface, but the bottom. Lisa threw herself into the vortex of her past with desperate courage, gasping with pain as she allowed the dark memories to pull her under and swallow her whole. Scared to death, she took a deep breath and dove down, forcing herself to relive every single horror in gory detail until her mind was spiraling out of control. Tears streamed down her face when she watched herself go through the flight from Dallas to Miami behind closed eyelids. Her grandmother's death made her scream in agony and Lisa punched the walls until her knuckles were bleeding.

Still, she urged herself on. One more.

The distant echo of his awful grunts and the smell of his body on hers ripped her world apart once again. Lisa could no longer hold down the bile that had risen in her throat and with a gut-wrenching cry she vomited onto the mattress. She kept heaving until her muscles contracted and her struggle for air turned frantic. Panicked, Lisa tried to get up, but she was too weak. _You dirty little whore._ Grimy fingers on her skin. Oh please no.

It was done.

Her retching had turned violent and she was losing the battle for air. Lisa coughed one last time and then, with a low, harrow moan, she fell unconscious.

----------

"… broke her. I'm not surprised, but amazed none the less."

What? Lisa blinked. Two pairs of legs.

"After what she cost me?" Jackson's voice, as cold as in her darkest dreams. "Killing her would have been too easy."

The meeting! Mustering all her strength, Lisa crawled forward. "I -"

Jackson's swift kick to the stomach doubled her over. "Shut up."

Slowly, her eyes traveled over to his associate, a man in his mid-forties, dressed immaculately in a sharp suit. At present, his forehead was wrinkled in evident disgust at the sight of her soiled figure.

"Please, sir," Lisa croaked, "please help me."

His unflinching stare shook her to her very core. She was nothing to him and Lisa doubted whether anybody meant a thing to this man.

Jackson sneered. "Yes, please do. Be a knight in shining armor."

"I'd rather not."

The two laughed and Lisa was petrified at how alike they sounded. The same dispassion, the same contempt, the same utter confidence in themselves and their superiority.

"So it's Jackson Rippner that you're going by nowadays?"

"Yes and I'd prefer for it to stay that way."

"Fine by me. Get Ms. Reisert a glass of water, I think it's time to talk."

Lisa pulled herself up into a sitting position against the wall and winced when the handcuffs cut into her flesh. Jackson's ex trainer stayed where he was and looked down on her, his expression impossible to read.

"My name is Colin Forbish, Ms. Reisert, I am an associate of Jackson Rippner, as I am positive you have gathered by now."

Oh hell, did these guys all have the same communication skills coach?

Jackson returned, more or less dropping the glass of water into her lap. Lisa couldn't detect the faintest hint of their common conspiracy in his eyes and she shuddered, hoping with all her heart that Jackson hadn't changed his mind. That would be her death warrant, for sure.

"Let's start with the obvious. You are not affiliated with Mr. Rippner?"

"I'm not." She swallowed hard, silently pleading for mercy.

Forbish didn't react at all to her obvious distress and continued. "You have no information about your whereabouts and hold no contact with anybody except Mr. Rippner?"

"No. Mr. Forbish, I-"

"Ms. Reisert, I ask the questions, you answer them. If this proves too difficult for you, I have means to simplify the matter. Are we clear on that?"

A single tear trickled down her cheek and Lisa bit down hard on her lip. "Yes."

"Good."

Jackson stood by, his posture alert, yet relaxed at the same time and his face was an example of detached amusement. He pursed his lips and smirked. "Smart girl."

Forbish ignored him. "Now, Ms. Reisert, when and how exactly did you meet Mr. Rippner?"


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Lisa told him, the horror of her descent into the past lacing every word to leave her mouth. She felt so ashamed of how vulnerable she was to the two men standing in front of her that it made her narrative tumble with embarrassment and hurt.

"Interesting, Ms. Reisert, and quite unusual. Congratulations." Forbish cocked a brow. "Not many marks live to tell the tale, never mind win out." His gaze shifted to Jackson. "I expect you have learned your lesson."

Jackson just pointed at Lisa, a dismissive shrug rolling off his shoulders.

Forbes clicked his tongue. "Now if you will excuse us, Ms. Reisert and I are going to have a little chat in private."

"Fine by me." He shut the door behind him.

Forbes silently looked at her for a full minute and Lisa struggled up, growing anxious. She knew he was assessing her and she was deathly afraid of what he might find.

"How do you feel about Mr. Rippner?"

"What?"

"How do you feel about Mr. Rippner, Ms. Reisert?"

What the hell kind of question was that, Lisa wondered, trying to keep a straight face. Jackson had called Colin Forbish an almost preternaturally gifted judge of character and unfortunately, he hadn't exaggerated.

Forbish backhanded her and she crashed into the wall from the impact. Suppressing a sob, Lisa wobbled back and coughed. He waited until her eyes met his again and slapped her once more, harder even. Lisa slid to the floor.

"Ms. Reisert, do not judge my questions." His expression had remained the same indifferent mask throughout. "For the last time: what do you think of him?"

"I'm scared of him."

"Elaborate."

She hung her head in defeat. "He wrecked me … twice." The wounds she had inflicted on herself in her dark prison were still raw and she tapped into them with loathing. _Then_ _you bury your dad in a closed casket._ "He threatens me and my family." _Someone do that to you?_ "He violates me." _Are you sure we have a deal this time?_ "And I'm scared every single minute in his presence." She couldn't go on.

Forbish tucked at the sleeves of his navy suit. "What could Mr. Rippner offer you that would enable you to forgive him?"

Lisa massaged her temples, fully expecting him to lash out at her for the delay. This wasn't at all how this talk was supposed to go! "I … I don't know. Nothing."

"Think, Ms. Reisert, and think quickly."

His contemptuous tone made something inside her twitch with anger and she forced herself back to her feet. "I have already answered your question."

"Nothing? Not money, not a painful suicide, not a life spent in repentance doing good deeds for others … absolutely nothing?"

Lisa allowed another wave of memories to roll over her. _A parking lot in the middle of the day._ "Mr. Forbish, I spend my waking hours wishing for him to suffer for what he does to me." _The sheen of a knife._ "I hate him with every fiber and I always will."

"What do you think will happen to you?"

Tears streaked her face. _A merciless hand at her throat. Can't breathe._ "He will kill me." _Another time, another place, another hand strangling her into submission._ She whispered, "I'm alone, what can I do?"

And that was the absolute truth. Lisa trembled with apprehension.

Forbish smacked his lips. "Focus, Ms. Reisert, we're not done yet." His voice returned to monotony when he went on after only a second. "Have you had any contact with Mr. Rippner's associates at the safehouse after the second abduction?"

The mattress made a sickening squishing sound when she accidently stepped into her own vomit. "No."

He cast a disgusted glance towards the window. "None at all?"

"No, none."

His eyes returned to hers in a flash and an ugly smile parted his lips. "That's a lie, Ms. Reisert."

Oh God. Her heart stopped - Lisa was sure Jackson had said no contact whatsoever! She racked her brain, staring at her opponent in a growing panic as he came closer with outstretched arms.

"Ms. Reisert, tell me the truth immediately."

Jackson wouldn't have … couldn't have changed his plan without telling her. Not without a warning. Lisa tried to move sideways and swallowed hard. "I am."

Forbish gripped her head and whacked it against the wall behind her. "Stop lying, it doesn't further your cause."

Pain shot through her in a white flash, bringing her to her knees. Lisa hunched over. No. No! He forced up her chin with the tip of his shoe and pressed her backwards, the sole of his foot firmly on her throat. She convulsed as he choked her.

"That is by far not the worst I can do, Ms. Reisert. I want the truth and I want it now." The apparent boredom in Forbish's voice chilled her to the bone.

Billows of black wafted in from the edges of her vision and Lisa wanted to yell for Jackson to come to her rescue, but pride and the nagging little voice stopped her. _Stick to the plan. You can handle this. Come on._

"Snap out of it, Ms. Reisert! Who did you talk to?" He increased the pressure.

Lisa thrashed her cuffed hands against his leg and managed to wriggle free for a moment, but Forbish immediately kicked her in the chest, effectively driving out the last of her breath. Lisa cried out and rolled to the side, greedily gasping for air.

He jerked her up and threw her across the room. "Don't make me angry."

Lisa collided with the shelves._ Think … think, damnit!_ Blood from a cut on her forehead mingled with her tears, tainting the world pink. Crawling away from Forbish, Lisa recalled Jackson's cover up story. _Use different words, don't make it sound the same._

"Mr. Forbish, the truth is that Jackson smashed me against a window, I have the cuts to prove it. I can show them to you!" He had caught up with her and roughly pulled her up by the hair. Lisa screamed. "Please! He beat me black and blue and then I lost consciousness."

He jabbed his fingers into her skin and grabbed her by the collarbone. "I am aware of the fact that I am no spring chicken, Ms. Reisert, but I am skilled and well trained. I could break your measly bone with a single hit … do you have any idea how much that hurts?"

Lisa was terrified. "I'm not lying! I'm not lying!"

"Who did you talk to?"

Her defenses were waning and Lisa retched, spitting out the disgusting acid. "Nobody! I woke up in a dark room … somewhere … I don't know where! Please! You have to believe me!"

His grip became unbearable. "WHO DID YOU TALK TO?"

"Nobody … nobody! Please stop!" She went limp. _Last one, I promise._ Lisa stuttered out her story and each single word left her drained a little more. She was losing it. "It was a d-dark room with chains on the wall and … and there was a light bulb, b-but no toilet. And I just sat there and I … I was bleeding from my back and I didn't know what was gonna happen to me. And the d-darkness … I thought I was going insane, I was just tossing and turning and … and there was nobody. Nobody but J-Jackson. Argh!"

Forbish pushed her down and started to twist her neck, knees digging into her back.

Searing pain blinded her. "Yes, there might have b-been others at the … at the house, b-but I … I didn't see them or t-talk to them or anything… just Jackson. Please, you h-have to … to believe me! Stop! … You're killing me!"

Her joints cracked and everything faded to black.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer:** None of this (except for OCs) belongs to me.

**Author's note:** I am so happy that people continue to read and review this story. You guys are fantastic! However, don't be shy - if there's anything in there that you find needs improving, just let me know. I promise I won't bite.

**Chapter 25**

Forbish was laughing, still pressing down on her with all his might and Lisa felt the world shake. She let out an agonized scream and struggled against him.

"Leese!"

Jackson! Jackson had finally come to help her.

"Leese!"

Lisa snapped back to her senses with a start and instinctively scrambled backwards. She was in her room, free of the cuffs, and in front of her knelt Jackson with a look of clear alarm. Lisa stared at him wild-eyed and he held up his hands.

"He's gone, Leese, Forbish is gone."

She slumped down, breath coming in short gasps. "How … what …"

"Breathe. Just breathe."

Jackson reached out, but Lisa flinched away feeling incredibly filthy. She was sticky with sweat, blood, vomit and tears and the sight of her own clothes made her sick all over again. He didn't seem to mind as he took her by the arm and for the first time, Lisa noticed that even Jackson had been marked by the meeting with his ex trainer. An ugly bruise shimmered on his cheekbone all the way down to his jaw and there were fresh cuts on his neck.

Jackson slowly walked her into the bathroom and let her drop to the floor next to the small tub. He turned on the tap and left, returning with her vanity bag and fresh clothes which he laid out on a little stool. Jackson helped her to her feet and steadied her with outstretched arms, regarding her questioningly.

"I'm okay." Lisa could barely muster the strength to whisper.

He merely nodded in reply and closed the door firmly behind him. Lisa undressed, gingerly checking out her bruises in the mirror, and winced at the pain. She slid into the warm water with a content sigh and blinked in confusion when she realized that Jackson had brought her the TC shirt. If actions did indeed speak louder than words, he had just been pretty nice to her.

She completely lost track of time and it was dark when Lisa finally emerged from her bath. The main room had been tidied up, her dirty sheets were gone and the distinctive smell of detergent filled the air. The mattress was leaning against the wall, having obviously been cleaned.

Jackson sat in front of his laptop and the shimmer of the screen cast a strange light onto his face, turning his skin pale and transforming the brilliant blue of his eyes into almost eerie lucidity.

He looked up and they exchanged a glance. Jackson's gaze wandered down to her shirt and he grinned briefly before his features settled into a more neutral expression. After a moment's hesitation, Lisa stepped forward.

"Whitley has answered your mail." Jackson paused, apparently pondering something. "Your dad and friends are in town and they want you to come home."

Lisa hung her head with a little shake and moved over to the window. The blinds were shut as always, but she could hear the sounds of the city traveling through the wind. The mental image of her family out there, no doubt worried beyond all reason, weighed her down with sadness and longing. "We're not done here, are we?"

His footsteps approached. "No." Jackson's voice was low and betrayed no emotion.

Lisa rested her forehead against the glass, savoring the cool sensation. "I'll tell them we need more time." The few precious minutes alone in that interrogation room, right before she had agreed to participate in this mission, seemed years away, but she remembered her determination all too clearly. Back then, she had decided to go through with it come hell or high water - and she would not shy away now.

Suddenly Lisa felt Jackson's hand close around the back of her neck, but it was almost gentle, his fingertips connecting with her skin rather than digging into it. He pressed down his palm in a faintly awkward motion and slowly, he pulled her away from the window. The warmth of his touch offered a fleeting hint of reserved comfort that passed into oblivion when Lisa turned around and broke the contact.

His lips curved into the all too familiar smirk and Jackson went over to the table, pulling out the second chair. "There's work to do."

Lisa shrugged off the remains of the moment and followed. "I take it we have passed the interview?"

"Yes, we had him completely fooled."

"You sound surprised." Even though the mere mention made her shudder, it also filled her with immense pride and an innate sense of accomplishment.

Jackson chuckled. "Don't get cocky." He cleared his throat and grew serious once more, knuckles rapping against the table. "It's just the beginning."

Lisa just had to ask. "Forbish … he said -"

"Forbish is all about the person, Leese, he judges by how believable he finds you as a character, especially under pressure. That's the reason for all the weird questions and the violence. Whatever he said, it was supposed to throw you for a loop. We'll get to that later, now check your message."

Lisa read through Whitley's mail, which basically served as an introduction to what her family had to say. Her father, mother, Jay and Cynthia had each written a few paragraphs and their tension was palpable. God, how she missed them.

All intentions for a reassuring and calm message pulverized while Lisa phrased her reply. She nearly rambled, posing question after question about their well-being and the life they used to share, interspersed with little anecdotes and stories of past adventures together. Lisa did not go into detail about her own, but gave a very general account and tried to make them understand that she couldn't return just yet. It almost broke her heart when the last sentences poured out of her and she finished her mail with _I love you always, Lisa_.

"You done?" Jackson waited for her signal before he took the laptop.

"Yes."

He added a few lines of his own and hit 'send'.

Lisa got up and walked into the kitchenette, rifling through the cabinets until she had collected enough comfort food to last an army and settled on the couch.

"We could order something, you know." He was standing in the doorframe.

"No, I'm good."

"Suit yourself." Jackson strolled over casually, but Lisa could have sworn his swagger lacked a bit of his usual coolly dispassionate luster. He plopped down beside her, close enough to stir a quick ripple of discomfort in her gut, and reached for the nachos. "We still need to talk about what exactly went down between you and Forbish, Leese."

She had intended it to come out smoothly, but her tone was faltering despite her best efforts. "Tonight?"

"No, we can do it tomorrow morning if you insist." He handed her the jar with the dip, eyes probing hers deeply. "We have another meeting at 2 p.m.."

Lisa dropped the jar and cursed in frustration while she fumbled around for it. She would never be any good at this, just look, her nerves were fleeing her already!

Jackson ran a hand through his hair and pursed his lips in annoyance, but it seemed as if she wasn't the sole reason for his irritation. "Leave it." He grabbed the dip and smacked it back onto the table with a bang.

Lisa crossed her legs and regarded him with a weary smile. "Let's do this now, I won't be able to sleep either way."

"Remember the sedative? There's more where that came from."

She bolted upright and glared at him. "You wouldn't!"

Jackson clenched his teeth for a moment before he went on, firmly neutral. "It was meant to be an offer, Leese, not an order."

It was too late, though, Lisa had lost her appetite and threw aside the pack of nachos with a shaky sigh. Massaging her temples at the thought of the ghosts that might haunt her in her sleep tonight, she got up.

"Your loss." Jackson raised one brow and the unspoken challenge was written all across his face in bright red letters. When she didn't react to it, he turned his back on her. Lisa was already halfway out the door when his voice, soft to the point of being almost too soft to hear, reached her ears. "Oh for fuck's sake, Leese, I'm not exactly reveling in your pain here."

Lisa opened her mouth, shut it with a snap and opened it again. Jackson cut her off with an impatient wave of the hand. "Fresh sheets are on your suitcase."


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's note: **Thanks to all who have read and reviewed. I love feedback! Special thanks to Royalty09 for her pointers on this chapter.

**Chapter 26**

Joe Reisert, Cynthia and Jay stood in front of the Lounge Lizard's Club and were having an animated discussion.

"No, this must be it." Cynthia pointed at the sign. "I swear, when Keefe took out the file and arranged the papers, there was a protocol and it mentioned them going to a Lizard Lounge or something on the first night."

Joe Reisert shook his head in disbelief. "Cynthia, the paper was upside down, how can you be so sure?"

"Please," she snorted, "if I had to wait for the customers to finish reading out their booking confirmations at the counter every time, it would take twice as long."

Jay nodded. "That's true, Joe, it's one of her talents."

Giving him a thankful look for his support, Cynthia went on. "We have checked the yellow pages and apart from this club there is nothing else with a similar name except for the kiddie center at the local reptilian museum and a pet store. This _must_ be it!"

Lisa's father paced up and down, deep in thoughts. "We checked with the papers, the safehouse is far away …"

"But that's exactly the point, don't you see?" Jay chewed on his lower lip. "This guy does nothing without good reason. We know he's handsome and he can be charming if need be, so if it was just fun or … company he was after, he could have gone to the friendly neighborhood pub around the corner."

Cynthia grew animated. "He didn't, though, he came all the way out here. Why?"

"Why bring Lisa along?" Joe still wasn't sold on the idea.

"I don't know, Joe." Absentmindedly, Jay massaged the sore muscles in his neck. "But there was more than one attacker on the night TC got kidnapped, so Rippner must have contacted someone somewhere along the line. Why not here? Loud music, many people, a seemingly harmless chat and bang! Instant conspiracy."

Cynthia grabbed Lisa's father by the arm, pulling him gently towards the entrance. "Come on, it's worth a shot."

Loud music filled their ears when they walked to the bar. It was a Wednesday night, but still, the club was pretty much bursting at the seams. The three made their rounds, each equipped with a headshot of Lisa, but no one could remember the girl in the photo. They even got to talk to the manager, who squirmed and hawed until he admit that he had, in fact, already been questioned by 'the police', but unfortunately, had to tell them the same thing: no, he had never seen Lisa Reisert in his life. He also asked them not to mention the club to reporters.

Their hopes shattered, Joe, Cynthia and Jay strolled back to their rental car.

"Well, at least we know they were here." Cynthia shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket, fingers toying with the picture of her friend.

Jay shrugged. "Should we go back to Keefe and confront him?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea at the time." Joe Reisert rubbed the bridge of his nose and ground his teeth at the memory of their last encounter. Keefe and Whitley had shown them Lisa's email answer, impertinent enough to ask whether his daughter might perhaps show signs of 'Stockholm Syndrome'. Needless to say, things had gotten a little heated.

"Let's go back to the hotel and sleep on it." He gave a humorless laugh – as if he could sleep at all – and took a deep breath, looking at their surroundings clearly for the first time since they had left the manager's office. Joe heard footsteps behind them and turned his head.

It was the pretty blonde bartender from the club who gave him a small smile before she crossed the street to the bus stop.

----------

Lisa awoke at dawn, restless and nervous. She got up and started doing her exercises, noticing the equipment Jackson had bought her neatly lined up by the mattress. Her neck hurt like hell, sore and tender from Forbish's brutal treatment. Never in her life had Lisa been so grateful for blacking out.

She warmed up carefully and then spent a good hour doing the heavy duty training her father had shown her – push ups, sit ups, weights and rope skipping. When Lisa heard Jackson take a shower, she slowly finished up her routine by stretching.

"Bath's all yours, Leese."

She enjoyed the splash of warm water on her skin and Lisa felt rejuvenated and prepared to face the world. The terrors of the past day were still very much with her, but they didn't dominate her anymore and she dared to doubt they ever would.

Jackson stood by the counter drinking his coffee and gave her a strange glance. "Your fan club has been busy."

"What?"

"Your father and friends showed up at the club last night, asking all kinds of questions." He sounded less than enthused.

Love tugged at her heartstrings. "You're kidding."

"No. Apparently, Keefe didn't tell them, but they found out anyway." Jackson refilled his mug. "We need to take precautions."

"What are you talking about!"

"I can't let them run around meddling with my … our business. One wrong word into the wrong ear will absolutely kill us, Leese. They have to stop _immediately_."

Lisa tensed up, prepared to fight. "What are you suggesting?"

"Easy there, Ms. Temper, I'm working on it." Jackson was unfazed. "Sit down and eat, first and foremost I want to know what happened between you and Forbish."

Lisa took a deep breath and told him. Jackson didn't interrupt her once; he was scribbling away furiously on a piece of paper, murmuring an acknowledgement every now and then. At the end, she leaned back with a shudder and a sigh, grateful it was over.

"It's not over yet, Leese, focus. So when he asked you …"

The second round consisted of Jackson grilling her about the questions and her answers and about miniscule details like facial expressions or moves. Lisa noticed he had previously left a lot of space between the lines of his notes that he was now filling out with the extra information. Jackson forced her through the event almost frame by frame and by the time he appeared to be finally satisfied, Lisa was about to start crying. Three hours had gone by in a rush and left her completely drained.

She slumped over onto the counter. "Are we done?"

"With this chapter of our exciting lives, yes. There's more to come at 2, remember?"

A faint feeling of nausea settled in the pit of her stomach and Lisa pushed the remains of her breakfast aside with a moan. "Who is it?"

"A possible client or rather, his representative." Jackson put her plate in the sink.

"Have you worked with the guy before?"

The raised brows translated his disapproval perfectly and he didn't reply.

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Let me rephrase: anything you can tell me about him that'll make it easier for me to be plausible?"

Jackson beamed a satisfied grin and for a moment, Lisa had to fight the overpowering urge to wipe it off with a punch. It must have shown on her face as he tilted his head and tutted. "Definitely no talking today, not even pleading for help." Jackson's voice was as taunting as ever and it maddened her. For every step forward, they seemed to take two steps back. "Zip it and follow my every command, our visitor expects me to be in absolute and irrevocable control over you. Got that?"

She hissed a yes - matching his acerbity with ease - and got up.

Jackson grabbed her by the arm, holding her back with an iron grip. "Good." At the sight of her clenched jaw, he let her go and put up his hands in something like an apology. "The next guy is dangerous. He will judge every single word to come out of your mouth, so just be extra careful. You know I can't help you during these meetings, but -"

"Yeah, I noticed that. Where _were_ you when Forbish almost killed me?"

"I was waiting in the other room."

"How heroic." She couldn't quite hide the bitterness.

Jackson paused, regarding her intently. When he continued, the mocking tone was gone. "Anything else would have given us away, Leese, and we'd be dead now. If it's any consolation, he didn't treat me any better."

"What did he do to you?"

"The same. Asking me all kinds of strange questions, accusing me to lie, physical violence ..." He turned around, busying himself with the dishes. "You did okay with Forbish. Don't muck it up now."


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer:** Don't own a thing.

**Author's note:** A big thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. I'd like to yell out a quick extra-thanks to the unsigned reviews, as I can't answer them personally. I'm floored by your kind comments!

**Chapter 27**

With cuffed hands, Lisa paced up and down in her closet, but try as she might, she just couldn't get into the right state of mind. When she heard the apartment door open and the low murmur of voices travel through the wall, she dropped down, fear surging through her veins like an electric current. Fuck!

The wall slid apart and Lisa blinked against the bright light. The man standing next to Jackson must have been her age, but his eyes were brimming with hidden agenda and marred his youthful features into someone a lot older. The dark hair was slicked back perfectly, suit immaculately pressed into starch obedience. His gaze traveled to Jackson and Lisa flinched. Whoever he was, this one wasn't merely checking them out, he _wanted_ to prove them wrong on a very personal level.

"Why isn't she dead yet?" He sounded bored, words drawn out to a slight whine.

"Why should she be? She's fun to keep around." Jackson's voice was different as well, albeit professional as ever. Yes, these two definitely had an axe to grind.

"Never figured you for that type of guy, Rippner. Of course, there was also a time when nobody thought you'd ever fail."

"Well, Laritt, just goes to show that -"

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall … yeah." Laritt snickered and took a good look around the room, obviously hell-bent on finding something suspicious.

"So do I pass?" Jackson scratched his nose, giving his opponent the most condescending grin Lisa had ever seen on him - and was answered in kind.

"Patience, comrade. You know how it is."

Lisa stared at the mattress, barely daring to breathe. She had hoped this meeting might turn out less frightening than the one before, but the way things were going right now, it had the potential to be even worse. Forbish had stopped when he'd gotten the validation he had wanted, but Laritt … he was the type to keep going out of pleasure, just to spite them.

Unfortunately, he hadn't forgotten about her. She heard swift footsteps approach and then cool fingers lifted her chin. "She's pretty."

"Yes."

"I don't like the way she looks at me."

"Leese."

Barely managing not to grind her teeth at Jackson's tone, Lisa fixed her eyes to the floor. That was how dogs were talked to.

"So you're a fan of the tough love, huh, Rippner?" Laritt clicked his tongue. "Look at all these bruises." She could hear the smile in his voice, probably all teeth. "You know, honey, I would have killed you right away. Especially with that police file on your rape. Does it hurt? I mean physically, because judging from the medical records there must be a lot of scar tissue. Parking Lot Guy didn't exactly go easy on you."

The fucking bastard.

"Talk to me, Lisa."

Hell no.

"Rippner, tell her I wanna know."

"Leese, be good now. Talk to the good man." The amusement in his words almost shocked her into a stupor. Still, she wouldn't speak and Jackson approached her fast, jerking her head back by the hair. "We've been over this, bitch." His eyes flashed at hers in fury and Lisa couldn't help but shrink away.

She shuddered. "It … it hurts."

Laritt nodded, apparently pleased. "Figures." He stepped away from her, but then changed his mind and crouched down until they were eye to eye. "Think he'll share?"

"Absolutely not," was Jackson's curt reply.

Lisa's stomach churned at Laritt's wolfish grin and his fingers on her cheek. For a long moment, she wanted to claw his eyes out of their sockets, assignment be damned. _Nothing_ was worth this! But then the strangest thing happened. Laritt's full attention was on her as he slowly pulled down the neckline of her shirt, so Lisa dared to look up to Jackson. He was following Laritt's actions with what seemed to be honest distaste and anger. Her eyes met his and for a split second, Lisa feared _he_ might give them away before Jackson frowned in something like confusion. His features returned back to neutral and she focused. Time to get the ball rolling.

Deliberately, Lisa shifted her gaze downwards. "You have to ask him that."

Laritt's fingers paused. "Hot damn, you got her trained well, Rippner."

Let him think that, let him get comfortable in the belief of her inferiority … Laritt would never know what hit him until it was too late. One day, she was going to be served his head on a silver platter and she would revel in the knowledge that it was her doing that got him. This was her fight and she'd bring him down.

"You sound surprised. Leese, what do you think?" _Don't speak._

She heard it every bit as clearly as if he had said the words out loud. Lisa waited.

Jackson's voice didn't waver. "Let's do some business first and then maybe."

"We're not at school, so fuck that. Seems like you're feeling a little protective … which doesn't suit your bad boy rep at all, I might add."

"Laritt, the bitch is mine and I quite like it that way. Isn't that right, Leese?" _Speak._

"Whatever you think is right." _You hold up your end, I'll hold up mine._

Laritt reached for her again and Lisa flinched, exaggerating the movement a little. "Hold still, honey. Wouldn't want to hurt you any more than necessary."

Jackson stepped in, bumping into Laritt's shoulder with his knee. "Alright, if it means that much to you." He shoved the other man aside and bent down to pick up Lisa by the arms. "Just give him a little taste." _You up to this?_

She stared at him. _Don't let this go on for too long or I swear … I'll kill you._

Jackson chortled. "One condition. She looks at me the whole time."

He gave her a push towards Laritt who caught her, hands digging into her skin. It was odd ... even through the horror, Lisa felt a keen sense of power that she had never expected. It was Laritt who was weak, not she. Here he was - sorting through whatever childhood trauma he was undoubtedly suffering from, prancing around in his blind arrogance, when it was _her_ who played him like a fucking fiddle. Every step that he believed to bring him closer to the finish line was actually just another knife she was thrusting into his back. Laritt turned her around, so they were both facing Jackson and Lisa locked eyes with her accomplice, lips pressed into a thin white line.

"You smell nice." Laritt's hips swayed as if they were dancing together, yet the movement was impersonal, distant. It was nothing but cold, calculated provocation.

Jackson raised his brows. "Answer." _Stay calm._

_That's easy for you to say._ She choked out a thank you.

"You're welcome, Lisa." His sugary tone, so smug, so sure of the infallibility of his little plan, filled her with loathing._ Enjoy this while you can, you prick, because at the end of the day, you're going down and you're going down hard._

Jackson smiled.

"What the hell are you smiling at, Rippner? Stakes not high enough to be interesting for you or what's the deal here?" Laritt's fingers traveled underneath her shirt, squeezing her breasts almost clinically, and Lisa grimaced with disgust. "How far do you reckon can I go before she no longer obeys, huh?"

Smile fast in place, Jackson gave a dismissive shrug. "That's really not the question here." The air around him crackled with tension. This was Jackson at his best, at his most dangerous, and he dominated the room by sheer force of personality. "The correct question would be: how far do you reckon you can go before _I_ lose my patience and report to your client that unfortunately, we will be unable to resume business relations. All because his representative was distracted to the point of being useless." His voice was smooth, low. _Ready, Leese?_ "How far away is that? Try me."

Laritt snorted and Lisa grew stiff as a board. _Great job, you idiot. _Next thing she knew, she was shoved hard and she tumbled into Jackson, no longer able to suppress the shivers she had so bravely ignored before. Without a word, he motioned towards the mattress, his eyes never leaving hers until she was settled. The wall slid closed and once again, Lisa was alone in the darkness. The image of Jackson's curt, proud nod right before he had pressed the button burned a hole in her mind.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's note:** Ha! How's _that_ for a quick update? Special thanks to emptyvoices, Royalty09 and First Noelle for their neverending encouragement and good tips.

**Chapter 28**

With the fight and the accompanying adrenaline gone, only fear and disgust were left to fill her heart, making it beat in a rapid, heavy rhythm until Lisa worried it might burst her chest from the inside out. Tears of anger streaked her face and she cursed in frustration at her current state - away from everything she loved, in the company of cold blooded criminals. Curling up on her side and pressing her forehead against the cool wall, she imagined what she would be doing right now if she were at home. It was a Thursday afternoon, somewhere around 5 p.m., so she'd be working and later meet Cynthia and Jay at The Potato Drink, the best vodka bar in town and favored setting for their cherished weekly cocktail run.

----------

"_So where do you wanna go on Saturday?" Cynthia was nibbling on the little cherry that had come with her drink and eyed one of the waiters with a lazy gaze._

_Lisa looked down, fingers absentmindedly tracing the little droplets of perspiration down the chilled glass. "I don't know … The Village?"_

"_Again?" Jay tilted his head and viewed her intently. "I love gay clubs and I understand that … well … oh heck, I'll come right out and say it … I understand that they feel safe to you, but don't you think it's about time you ventured out a little?"_

_Lisa blushed. It was true, she did feel safe at gay clubs, surrounded by men she knew did not take any interest in her. The last time she had been persuaded to spend an evening at a regular club, she had left early and close to a panic, intimidated by the amount and intensity of the stares she had gotten from strangers._

_Cynthia stroked her arm. "We don't want to force you into anything you're uncomfortable with, but Jay is right … you might want to at least _consider_ trying to change things. Just a bit! You're not alone, you know?"_

_Lisa gave her a smile in return and squeezed her friend's hand. "I do know that and you have no idea how grateful I am."_

_The following Saturday the three went to a sport's bar where the average customer was about 50 and kept to themselves. They had a couple of beers and Jay put an evil gypsy curse ("My neighbor's from Bulgaria and she taught me how to do that.") on the aesthetically challenged woman who had picked five Celine Dion songs in a row on the jukebox. The weekend after that they went to the Village again to replenish and the weekend after that, to a regular club closer to their own age group._

_Eventually, Lisa got better. Weeks later, she would say yes to the first date she had had in well over two years. Of course it didn't work out – there were still too many issues to work through – but it was nice to see not all men were predators. _

_----------_

The animated discussion from the other side of the wall told her that Laritt hadn't left yet. Suddenly, Lisa realized something with no small amount of surprise. She realized that she couldn't stand for him to be _here_, in 'their' apartment. The base of operations for her abductor slash accomplice had, in a strange way, become her home and she felt a certain sense of protectiveness towards it. Lisa sighed and then flinched when the wall slid apart. Hesitantly, she turned around and faced the two men that were staring down on her, so alike and yet worlds apart.

Jackson seemed as cool as ever, his suit without a single wrinkle and he wore it casually, confidently. Laritt was obviously angry, the knot of his tie too far on one side and his hands were curled into fists. Lisa decided it was the difference in age and experience that was his main disadvantage. Laritt was as violently ambitious and menacing as Jackson, but unlike him, he had not completely mastered his emotions. Well, if you forgot about a minor slip or two from the latter. At the last moment, Lisa bit down hard on her lip, turning the faint smile that had threatened to escape into a grimace of what she hoped looked like irrational fear. Jackson frowned.

"Dear Lisa, I'm afraid our time for today has come to an end. It was a real pleasure to meet you." Laritt had regained his composure and once more, his voice radiated boredom. But then the smile he gave her was downright appalling. "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other soon."

When she kept silent, Jackson nudged her with the tip of his foot. "Leese?"

God, how she hated this and Lisa was determined to let him know afterwards. "Good bye."

"Good bye, gorgeous. And be good!" Laritt snickered at Jackson and turned away.

The wall closed and Lisa fell back into her mattress with a sigh, eternally relieved her ordeal was over - for the day. She had been strong and she was proud of that, but she knew she wouldn't have been able to stomach another round of the pompous slime that was Laritt. The apartment door slammed shut with a bang and Lisa got up, waiting for Jackson to let her out.

It didn't happen.

She heard him rummage about in the room, heard furniture being moved and the faint rustle of papers, but she couldn't figure out what it meant. For a horrifying moment, Lisa feared that somehow Laritt had killed Jackson and was now sniffing around before he would come for her. It sent a chill up her spine and frantically, Lisa searched for something she might be able to use as a weapon, berating herself for the missed opportunity. Why the hell hadn't she thought about that before? Why the hell _didn't_ she have a knife from the kitchen hidden underneath her mattress? In the back of her mind, an answer started to form, but she pushed it aside recklessly, very unwilling to think about its meaning at this point … or any other, for that matter. Suddenly, a muffled voice reached her ears through the wall and Lisa slid down, knees wobbly, burying her head in her hands. It was Jackson, he was talking on the phone to someone. Nothing left to do but wait.

At least an hour passed before he finally got her out.

"I needed to check for bugs and cameras first." No apology, of course not. Jackson helped her up and took off the cuffs. He examined the red welts that were already starting to form on her wrists, gently rubbing at them with his thumb. "Too tight. Does it hurt? Let's get some ice on it."

Without a word, Lisa walked past him. Her throat was dry; she was pent up with tension, her very soul longing for a release by exertion, exhaustion. Ignoring Jackson completely, she started to warm up with jerky, forceful moves and Lisa welcomed the pain from her protesting muscles like an old friend.

Jackson eyed her curiously. "Whenever you're ready we'll talk."

----------

Laritt leaned into the backseat of his black BMW with an irritated frown. His associate who was driving knew him too well to talk, so they spent the first thirty minutes in silence, each in their own thoughts.

His were dark and angry. Jackson Rippner was a rival and he had never liked him. In fact, he hated that guy who had snatched away the most lucrative assignments from right under his nose on multiple occasions. He just didn't get the appeal. Clients loved him for his ambition, confidence, discretion, ruthlessness and unwavering attentiveness to detail, but hell, that was a job prerequisite and didn't set him apart from all the others. From what he had gathered through the grapevine, Rippner had been a regular wunderkind at college, already working for several important people on the side when he had been his age … a real fucking prodigy. Laritt snorted and kicked the front seat in frustration. It was luck, nothing else. Meet the right people at the right time and everything unfolds to your advantage. His lips curled into a sneer.

Luck would only take you so far, though, and Rippner's had finally run out on his last assignment. While everybody else in their line of work was busy wondering what on earth had managed to throw off the mighty Jackson Rippner, Jeff Laritt had laughed and quietly taken over a large portion of the left-over business with the help of his trusted associate. It paid well and the fact that it was that bastard's money he was earning made it all the sweeter.

Life had been grand … up to the point where suddenly, out of the blue, Jackson Rippner had returned in a halo of glory. Escaped from the hospital, he had somehow wormed his way back in, stupefying the feds and whoever else by kidnapping a girl – what a girl! - and wanting to resume business as if nothing had happened. And the clients, short-sighted idiots, were tripping all over themselves to see whether he was still any good. Well, not if Jeff Laritt could help it.

He browsed through the beige folder that was lying on the seat next to him. "You know where they're at?"

"The Lux Washington down at Fifth."

"Let's pay them a little visit, shall we?"

Something was wrong about the whole thing, Laritt could _feel_ it in his bones. That Lisa Reisert was still a bit of a puzzle to him, but even puzzles had their weak spots. Hers were her family and friends. An ugly smile parted his lips and he clenched his teeth. Torment the girl and he might just get an interesting reaction from Rippner, something he could use against him.

Now … how exactly to go about it … ?


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Author's note:** I haven't been getting any notices lately - no private messages, no chapter alerts, no forum thread alerts, no review alerts, etc. So in case anyone has reviewed and I haven't answered, I'm sorry. Thanks for reviewing!

**Chapter 29**

Lisa was sweating, having worked with the rope for the last forty minutes or so, but still, it wasn't enough. She needed to _move_. Without thinking, she fell back into her old field hockey routine, practicing quick starts and acceleration by blasting through the room. The familiar sight of Jackson sitting by the table, illuminated by the flicker of the computer screen while he was rifling through his files, didn't bother her concentration in the least anymore. Every now and then he would shoot her a quick glance from underneath cocked brows, but say nothing.

"Leese, it's been an hour and a half. You about done?"

She walked back to her imaginary start, panting. "No, why?"

"I have to leave, which unfortunately means I have to ground you."

Lisa froze. "Forget it, I'm not going in there."

"It's for your own good and you know it." With the perfect pitch of exasperation he added, "What if there's unexpected company?"

"That's such a bullshit argument, Jackson. Then you would either be dead or otherwise unable to help - and I would be a sitting duck, cuffed and locked away." An ugly thought crossed her mind. "That's not what you want, is it?"

He chuckled. "What do you expect me to say to that?"

"The truth." Following a sudden impulse, she stalked over and slammed the laptop shut, planting her outstretched arms right next to his hands as she leaned across the desk towards him. "Jackson, would you ever hurt me?"

Lisa couldn't tell whether he disliked the way she was looming over him with a frown, because his face stayed impassive. If anything, he looked bored. "Define hurt."

"What?"

"You demand a guarantee that I can't give. Nobody, not even your dad, is in the position to promise that they'll never hurt you. According to the experts, hurt comes in different shapes and sizes and there are about a million ways to do it. By accident, on purpose, to protect, to inflict damage, by proxy … and the list goes on." He reached for the laptop, but Lisa yanked it away.

"Give it your best shot then. I think we worked well together against Laritt and to be completely honest, it was _me_ who gave you a head start." She waited for his acknowledgement, but none came. All she got was a long, hard stare and she returned it stubbornly. "This is important to me, so spare me the witty banter."

"Jeez, Leese, that's like asking a guy if he'll love you forever," he grumbled. "Listen up, because here it comes, my best shot: I. Cannot. Guarantee. It." When she tried to interrupt him, Jackson cut her short. "For the sake of the argument, though," he drew out the words, "let's agree that I would never intentionally hurt you unless there was absolutely no other way. And that's the best I can do. I'm just being honest with you, can't you appreciate that at all?"

For a brief moment, Lisa wondered if she would ever be able to fit back into a normal life, where the kind of dilemma she was facing right now was only to be encountered in movie theatres. She found herself across the table from Jackson Rippner – _the_ Jackson Rippner, for crying out loud - and while she might never completely trust him, she had seen enough of his world to believe him.

Almost as if he could sense her turmoil, he gave her a small, wistful smile. "So what about you then? Will you ever hurt me?"

Damnit, it _was_ a hard question.

Jackson pursed his lips, but he seemed amused rather than irritated. "Shower."

Twenty minutes later Lisa was ready. Jackson was still sitting by the desk, eyes fixed to the screen and his face a stony mask. She shrugged – if it was bad news, he'd tell her soon enough - and strolled over to her mattress, sitting down with her back against the wall. A small smile played across her features as she picked up the handcuffs and threw them across the room with gusto. Jackson bolted upright, giving her a death glare.

"A compromise, Jackson. And that's the best I can do."

"Whatever you say. We'll talk later." His hand hovered over the keyboard. "Leese?"

"Hm?"

"The hurting thing." Cool, matter-of-factly, but something else underneath there, as well. "Are we on the same page?"

Lisa paused, drawing a deep breath. "Yes."

He nodded slowly and the wall closed on her. About time, too, Lisa had gotten pretty uncomfortable; the knife she had smuggled out of the kitchen in the waistband of her pants was poking her in the back. If Jackson could get away with not being very forthcoming about his infamous Plan B's, well, so could she.

----------

The black BMW came to a slow halt in front of the Lux Washington, the lights from the restaurant mirrored in its tainted windows. Laritt stopped browsing through the pictures and glanced towards the entrance.

"These idiots actually seem to think they have a chance at finding Rippner." He tossed the folder aside and snorted, his twenty-something face contorted into a disdainful expression. "No sense of self-preservation is what that is."

"What do you want me to do?"

Laritt was about to answer, but the sight of three familiar faces walking out the lobby shut his mouth. What a nice surprise … right there, in the flesh: Joe Reisert, Cynthia van Arsberg and Jay Callaway. Another interruption caused him to remain silent and chew on his lower lip. "If these aren't government boys, I will eat shit for the rest of my life." This proved to be a very promising start to a _very_ promising evening!

Lisa Reisert's father and friends had stopped dead in their tracks to wait until the inconspicuous men in suits had caught up with them. The way it looked, their conversation wasn't exactly fun and laughter – an awful lot of arm waving and shushing involved. Laritt turned to his associate. "Roll the windows down a bit. I want to hear them."

The words he could make out through the noise didn't mean a lot to him, but they sparked his interest nonetheless. The suits were clearly trying to keep things quiet, but the others would have none of it. Laritt felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle with excitement; a short sentence here, a phrase there, boosted his confidence that he would be able to mark the whole Rippner resurfacing act as a fishy affair. And that would mean the end of terrorism's golden boy.

A promising evening indeed. "Alright, that's enough for now." Laritt waited until the windows were shut and smiled at his associate. "As soon as they're alone, get out there and trail them for a while. If you think there's no more interesting information to be gathered -"

What then? His instincts had been honed by his job and from the intel Laritt had collected so far, Lisa Reisert played an important role in this little production of deceit. Who would have thought? So if he managed to crack her … that might just damage Jackson Rippner enough to make him stumble. Fucking hell, he would enjoy watching that jerk keel over.

"What then, boss?"

"Then you kill them, of course, but don't be messy. I want a clean kill – the corpses need to be recognizable on the pictures, don't they?"

"Affirmative. I will give you a call you as soon as it's done."

His associate got out of the car and Laritt couldn't help but marvel at the figure slowly strolling towards the other side of the street across from the hotel. The movements were easy, graceful, and only knowing eyes would detect the hint of deadly accuracy this body was capable of. Well-connected, swift, without mercy and no doubt the best business associate Laritt had had in years … a valuable asset if there ever was one.

Laritt crawled over into the passenger seat, humming a cheery little melody while he turned the key in the ignition. This was almost too easy! Patience, patience, all it took was another hour or two. He decided he would not communicate his suspicions to anyone at this point - after all, why share the laurels? He would simply sit tight and wait until he had all he needed … and then finally take down Rippner, exposing him as the fraud he was.

The world would be his oyster after that.


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Author's note:** FF messaging is down again, grrr. So thank you in advance for your reviews, I will try to answer them.

**Chapter 30**

Two hours after another argument with the men Keefe and Whitley had sent to them, Joe, Cynthia and Jay finally returned to their hotel.

Apparently, news traveled fast in the dark and dangerous world of spies, because somehow, Keefe had known about their little trip to the club … and he wasn't pleased. The three were under strict orders to stay out - to "stay the HELL out", actually - yet had no intentions to do so.

They were tired, angry and frustrated. So far, their work in Washington had not been very successful; they had managed to alienate the Chief of Homeland Security who might just be developing an addiction to Pepto Bismol, judging from the looks he gave them whenever they had an appointment. Also, they had been unable to get Lisa back and there still weren't any real leads on her current whereabouts.

Jay reached out to the elevator call button, but pulled back. "Anybody up for a quick nightcap at the bar?"

"No thanks, I'd rather not be down here." Joe made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "I guess I'm showing the first signs of paranoia … I'm seeing potential agents everywhere. Doesn't help my mood."

Cynthia yawned. "This is ridiculous, at home I'd be at my most perkiest around this time. If I go to bed right now, I will feel like an old woman for the rest of my life. How about we get some room service and porn?" She giggled. "Made you look!"

Joe guffawed while Jay pulled her close, planting a fat smooch onto the top of her head. "I'll take a quick shower and be right there. Joe?"

Lisa's father sighed. "I don't know … I think I'll pass."

"You okay?" Cynthia squeezed his hand.

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Jay rolled his eyes and his voice was dry. "Well, at least we know now where TC got _that_ from. Come on, Joe, sitting alone in your room won't bring her back, it's just going to make you more miserable. Either way, I'll badger you until you cave in."

"Alright, alright, I'll be there."

An hour later Joe, Cynthia and Jay sat in front of the TV, debating which movie to order. A loud knock interrupted Jay's clamoring for _Troy_ and his high praises for Eric Bana's overall appeal compared to Brad Pitt's thighs (Cynthia's favorite).

"Room Service!"

"Cyn, did you order anything?"

"Most certainly not! I know how picky you are." She hauled herself up. "Hold on!"

----------

Lisa sat on her mattress, toying with the knife. She was fairly happy with herself and – she admit this rather grudgingly – with Jackson. Finally, their relationship was changing from captor/captive into something more like partners. She might never be an equal in his eyes, but her stocks were going up and Jackson was starting to show it.

The meeting with Laritt had gone according to plan, as much as you could plan these things, anyway. And it had been _her_ who had led the charge. She was getting good at this.

----------

Cynthia opened the door and a hotel employee handed her a bottle of Blackcurrant Vodka with a smile.

"I'm sorry, but there's been a mistake, we didn't order this."

"Really? I was told to bring this to your room." The man frowned and pulled a card from his pocket. "It says here to give you this and there's a note I'm supposed to pass along." He handed her a little envelope.

"Well … thanks." Cynthia tipped him, taking the bottle and the envelope. "Whoever this is from, they have good taste and a lucky hand. It's our absolute favorite."

The hotel employee nodded politely, clearly not very interested in the story. He said his equally polite goodbyes and left.

"Who is it from?"

Cynthia read the note. "It's from Keefe. Listen to this: 'My apologies for the unpleasant conversation today. I assure you that I only have your best interests at heart. With hope that you will accept and enjoy this olive branch, Charles Keefe.'"

Lisa's father snorted and reached for the bottle, no doubt to throw it across the room.

Jay intervened quickly. "Oh come on, does it get any better than that? Getting nice and tipsy while watching grown men in skirts beat the crap out of each other?"

"Shouldn't we call Keefe and say thanks?"

"You and your formalities, Cyn. We'll give him a drunk prank call later, if anything."

Joe got up and walked towards the door. "You guys have fun with that, I'm an old man and need to rest."

"Don't, Joe, please don't leave!" Cynthia ran after him and grabbed him by the arm, gently pulling him back to the sofa. "We're in this together, so we should drink this together, as well."

He pinched her cheek. "I'm afraid I'm gonna choke on this, honey."

"I can do a mean Heimlich maneuver, so no worries. Sit down, Joe, stay with us. TC wouldn't want you to go through this alone."

"You're a good kid, Jay, but too sneaky for your own good." Joe tapped him lightly on the head and plopped down on the couch. "Fine, pour me a shot."

They raised their glasses.

"To TC! To us! To truth, justice and the American Way!"

"Good grief, Jay, you can be so melodramatic."

"Drink your shot and make the next toast, _Cynnie_."

The third shot was dedicated from Joe to whoever would push Keefe out of office after the next presidential election. Paris, Hector and Helena were on a ship headed for Troy while Menelaus was fuming over his wife's betrayal. The skirt score – good versus should-have-worn-pants - was five to three … or six to three, depending on whether one counted Helena's garment as a skirt.

----------

Lisa felt almost elated.

Jackson had kindly left the light on this time, so she rummaged through her stuff, hands caressing the fabric of her clothes. Some of them still smelled like home. Lisa's gaze fell on the little purse, the one Cherry had given her with "Sarah Maria Lake's" things in it. What would happen if she paid with this credit card? Was it covered? All her own ID had been taken away from her when she had gone from the airport to the first safehouse. God, that seemed ages ago.

Hm. Whose motto was 'always be prepared'? She took out the wallet, keys and ID and put them into her little backpack. Better to have both hands free, wasn't it? Pulling the suitcase away from the wall, she hid the backpack behind it and covered it up with books.

Now she was prepared and ready for anything.

----------

Cynthia turned off the TV and walked to the bed. "Sorry, but I really should have eaten something … I can't hold my liquor anymore." She coughed. "Damn, and now _I'm_ choking on it." Her coughs turned into hacking and she held on to the headboard for support.

"Cyn, you alright?" Jay got up to help her, but wobbled, falling back onto the sofa. "What -" He swallowed hard.

Lisa's father was reeling as well, a horrible thought forming in the depths of his mind as the scene played out in front of him. Cynthia was sinking to the floor, her cheeks turning fiery red, while Jay gasped for air, hand clutched at his throat. Their faces were contorted in anguish and filled with fear.

It broke his heart. No! Joe himself felt his chest tighten until he was sure he heard his ribs crack from the pressure. He fell over and crawled towards the phone, already gulping for breath. His vision blurred as the pain roared through his intestines with blunt force. _NO!_ From the corner of his eye, Joe Reisert saw Cynthia's head loll to the side, a moan on her lips that subsided slowly and ended with a low gurgle. He couldn't see Jay, but he realized the silence could only mean one thing.

_I'm sorry I failed you. My babygirl, I hope at least you are safe … I will love you always. Be … be strong._

----------

Lisa thought of her parents and friends, love kindling a warm fire in her heart. They were out there somewhere, looking for her. _Don't give up on me, okay? I'm going to come out of this alive and well._ How much more was it going to take, really? Jackson had said that if they could convince Forbish, everything else might just fall into place. Well, they had done that, so what … three more meetings? Four? Five?

She'd ask Jackson as soon as he got back.

Lisa was going to do whatever it took to return to the life and the people she loved so much. The end to all this was within her grasp, she could see the hint of a silver lining on the horizon already.

----------

The door opened and cautious, slow steps approached the bodies, sound absorbed by the thick white carpet. From the outside, city life's music, its car horns, its shouts and chatter rang out through the air, muffled by the windows, but otherwise, the room was perfectly still.

Knees bent down in front of Joe Reisert and gloved fingers turned his head, searching for a pulse. Obviously satisfied with the examination's outcome, they reached into a black bag and produced a camera. A flash.

One down, two to go.


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Chapter 31**

The apartment door slammed shut with a bang and Lisa scrambled to her feet, frantically rubbing her eyes that had been closed in a light slumber just a second ago. What was going on? From what she could hear, Jackson was in a hurry, moving things about in the main room.

"Jackson! What on earth -"

"Quiet! Laritt is coming. Listen, I -"

"The cuffs!"

"Damnit, Leese!" A loud knock. "Remember what we talked about, remember that!"

Lisa held her breath. She didn't care at all for the tone in his voice; Jackson Rippner _never_ sounded scared, but whenever he was under a lot of pressure, his words carried a certain edgy quality, almost as if he was angry at the world around him for not moving as fast as he required it to do. She knew that now and it definitely changed some of her memories of that fateful flight from Dallas to Miami.

He went to open up for Laritt, kicking something metal out of the way. It must have been the handcuffs and Lisa slapped her forehead, feeling a sharp pang of guilt about her carelessness. This would make it all a bit more difficult. With a dry throat, she crouched down and waited for what was to come.

Even though the wall kept her from understanding what exactly was being murmured on the other side, it was more than obvious the two were arguing. Jackson seemed to have the upper hand, his sing-song smacking of taunts. Laritt, however, was growing increasingly furious by the sentence.

"Get her out!" He was also growing increasingly loud.

Jackson's reply must have been a whip of a comment as Laritt roared a fake laughter that was fed by pure anger and spite. "Nervous, Rippner?"

The wall opened and Lisa stared up wide-eyed, the hands at her sides digging into the mattress. Feigning it was unnecessary - she was absolutely terrified.

Laritt raised one brow. "What, she's unrestrained?"

"We have made a lot of progress." Jackson smiled, teeth gleaming. "You know progress, Laritt?"

"Jackson Rippner, the king of progress." His sarcasm could have cut through steel. "Well, we'll see how governed your royal subjects really are."

"Give it your best shot, kid." Jackson flicked at an imaginary piece of lint on his sleeve. "Word of advice, though … always, _always_ be honest to yourself. If it's Lisa you want, just admit it and I'll think about what I can arrange for you."

"What makes you believe I want her?"

"Probably the fact that I am being forced to bring her into this - when it's really just between the two of us." He walked towards the desk. "I say I lock her away again and we get this little charade over with."

"I say she stays."

"Your orders don't carry much weight around here."

Laritt tilted his head. "You seem on edge, Rippner."

"Why would I be? So you don't commend me to your employer, big deal. There's always the rest of the business."

"Oh, but you are aware of the fact that I can spoil the rest of the business for you as well, right?"

"You can try." Jackson chuckled. "And good luck with that." So close to the laptop.

"If you shut that door, poor Lisa Reisert will never know about her family."

Lisa's heart stopped dead, only to carry on at breakneck pace a moment later. _Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom._ It pumped ice into her veins. Her eyes darted over to Laritt who licked his lips, an unpleasant grin plastered across his face.

"Oh please, don't sell yourself so cheap, Laritt. Reaching for straws, are we?"

"Her family, Rippner." Laritt threw a pack of files at Jackson, who made no move to catch them and cast a bored glance at the pieces of paper loitering his floor. "Don't tell me you didn't know they were in town. That's rather careless of you, don't you think? Not to mention unprofessional."

"Of course I did." Jackson was radiating nonchalance. "The Lux Washington down at Fifth, if I remember correctly … which we both know I am."

"Quite risky to have them running around."

Lisa shivered with apprehension. Something was very wrong here and it took every ounce of strength she had within herself not to crawl forward and cradle the files in her arms. Laritt was baiting Jackson and he was baiting him with her, that much was obvious. _Hang in there, don't give yourself away._ She swallowed hard.

"Have a little trust in my abilities," Jackson tutted and Lisa understood he meant her rather than Laritt. "What harm could they possibly do to me?"

"They could talk to Keefe."

"And tell him what?"

"They could be a general pain in the ass."

"For you maybe, but I'm quite secure. Thanks anyway for the concern about my safety."

"Concern for your _safety_", Laritt spat out the words, "has nothing to do with it."

"Pray tell, what then?" When his opponent started to speak, Jackson snapped his fingers right in the other man's face in a move so insolent, it drove the color out of Laritt's cheeks. "But before you enlighten me, how about you're man enough to admit that it's between you and me and that Lisa can go back to sleep for now? She's had a rough couple of hours." Jackson stepped towards the laptop, no doubt to shut out Lisa before she was once again caught in the crossfire.

"Don't." The threat was as clear as a bell. Laritt shifted his attention to Lisa, who silently cursed to herself when she realized there was no getting out of this. "It's funny, ever since I came here today, you've been trying to keep your precious little toy out of it, which I find very, very odd. If you're so _secure_, why bother? I'm really starting to think there's something else going on altogether."

"It's a fine line between healthy paranoia and plain stupidity, Laritt."

"Hey, all I'm worried about here," Laritt put up his hands and pouted, "is the fact that you may not be on top of things."

"That's honestly touching, but unnecessary. I have my bases covered."

"In fact, Rippner, I like you so much that I have decided to help you ease up the pressure. Lighten your load, et cetera."

Jackson yawned. "I appreciate that, but I am quite apt at carrying my load, let me assure you."

Laritt sneered and the spark in his eyes was positively evil. "I'm actually waiting for a very important phone call."

"You know how much I enjoy being the host, but don't you have an office of your own where you can wait for calls? There's work to do here." This time, Jackson's finger almost touched the keyboard before he was interrupted.

"Cut. The. Crap." Laritt seemed to be losing it. "Cutie on the mattress here is playing a bigger role than you care to admit and frankly, I'm sick of messing around. She stays and you stay and I stay and we talk or else I'm spreading the word."

Jackson walked towards Lisa until his back was to Laritt, eyes locked on hers with an expression she had never seen on him before. _What, Jackson,_ _what is it?_ "Talk then." His voice gave away nothing.

"Finally!" Laritt pulled out his phone and waved it at her. "You see, honey, my associate is at the Lux right now." Lisa froze and a wave of nausea curled in her stomach, almost keeling her over. "Anything you wanna tell me? It might just change your family's destiny."

She sank down on all fours, palms sweaty. Oh my God!


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Author's note:** Thank you all so much for the great feedback I have received; I'm sorry I couldn't answer until today, but I was out of town. To make up for it, here's chapter 32 - I hope you guys like it. Even if you don't, please let me know, I'm always open for constructive critism! 'Nuff said.

**Chapter 32**

Jackson didn't miss a beat. "What is she supposed to tell you? Stories from the past?"

"Don't think I'm stupid, Rippner. I know everything."

"Really? Everything? So if Train A leaves the station at 2 p.m. with 50 miles an hour and Train B -"

What on earth was he _doing_! Jackson kept tossing her quick, hidden glances and Lisa was unable to decipher their exact meaning. She guessed he was probably signaling her to be quiet, but … this was her _family_ Laritt was talking about!

"Shut. UP!" Laritt clenched his fists, jaw set. "You have done nothing but evade the whole Reisert topic. Do you think I'm blind?"

Lisa was close to a break-down. Laritt was lying; despite his claims to the contrary he was completely in the dark about the exact nature of their operation, needling them for clues. All she wanted was to scream out whatever he needed to hear, yet she was unable, paralyzed by a nightmarish stupor. _He's a liar._ _They're okay. Don't listen to him._

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer. Leave now before I lose my patience."

"Oh, I'm tired of your bullshit, too, Rippner, make no mistake about it. These people are a danger to our work and will be taken care of – by me. Let _me_ assure _you_ that I will communicate this fact accordingly."

For the split fraction of a second, a shadow passed over Jackson's face, but it was gone so fast, Lisa considered it a simple trick of her imagination. "Is that what it is? Is that all you require?" A buddhist monk would have lost his temper at Jackson's contemptuous tone that reigned over the conversation once again.

Laritt snickered. "I _require_ nothing, but the clients do. They _require_ the old Jackson Rippner, the one with the inside sources and the attentiveness to detail."

Jackson grinned and opened his arms wide. "He's right here. Hello."

"No, what's right here is someone a tad too much on the shady side. And that's saying something, considering our line of work. Trust me, that info's going out."

"Personal issues clouding our judgment much?" Jackson's eyes traveled over Lisa's huddled form that was twitching with anxiety. "You want attentiveness to detail? There's a red folder on my desk."

Laritt opened the folder and paused, mouth agape. "Where did you get these?"

"The pictures? I took them."

"What do you mean, 'you took them'?"

Lisa frowned in confusion. Whatever Jackson had managed to pull of, it had shaken Laritt to the core. Would it be enough to throw him off her family's scent?

"When did you -" Laritt was struggling with his composure, losing the fight.

"Tonight, before your dog got the chance to do it. You see, Laritt, once again, you only come in second place."

What? The world started to turn upside down and Lisa swayed, blood thundering in her ears. No. That couldn't be.

"_Your fan club has been busy." … "One wrong word into the wrong ear will absolutely kill us, Leese. They have to stop _immediately_." … "I'm working on it."_

No. That absolutely couldn't be, it just wasn't possible. He wouldn't. Would he?

"_However, for the sake of the argument," he drew out the words, "let's agree that I would never intentionally hurt you unless there was absolutely no other way. And that's the best I can do."_

Jackson shrugged. "So let's just agree that your 'problem' has been taken care of and I'm still on top of the game."

His carefree, confident attitude almost sent her over the brink. "My … my family?"

Lisa's entire field of vision narrowed down to Jackson's face.

"I killed them, Leese."

"… _let's agree that I would never intentionally hurt you unless there was absolutely no other way …"_

The small remains of doubt that had so stubbornly held on to her heart scattered like ashes in the wind, taking the last of her hope with them. Not his words – calm, unaffected – but rather his expression had her convinced. For the first time since Lisa had met him, Jackson Rippner was truly and honestly sorry. She fainted.

----------

A hand cradled her head while cool fingers carefully brushed the hair out of her face, slowly following an invisible trail along her temple, down her cheek. In what Lisa decided was going to be the last illusion she would ever grant herself, she imagined it was her father's hand that was touching her and for a moment, she lost herself.

He tugged at the straps of her backpack. "Lisa?"

The perversion of it almost made her gag, but she lay still, unmoving. He had never called her that, to Jackson she had always been Leese. Bitterness raged through her like a firestorm, burning her black and barren. Leese – or Lisa, for that matter - did not exist anymore, her soul had died with … them. All that was left was an empty shell that would forever pay for its mistakes. Not alone, though. _Closer. Come closer._

Something was prickling in her palm. Her own fingernails had broken through the skin, but Lisa didn't loosen her grip on the knife. It seemed to whisper to her, entice her, and in dreamy rapture, she listened to its commands with every fiber of her body. _Just a lit-tle closer. _

Lisa opened her eyes, taking in Jackson who was crouching in front of her, a face full of words. She didn't want to hear any of them. She moaned, lifting one hand as if to hold on to him and he reached out to help her up. That was when she struck. She swung her arm in a tight circle, the sheen of the silvery blade catching a ray of light. It gleamed like a holy relic and Lisa made a promise to honor its Gods with blood. The flow of time slowed down into a viscid stream, driven by the steady beats of her heart.

It must have been animal instincts paired with years and years of training. Emitting a short gasp, Jackson pushed her away, the momentum sending him backwards. Instead of cutting him to the bone, the knife merely grazed him, ripping through his shirt and painting a fine red line across his chest. "Fucking hell, Leese!" He scrambled to his feet.

Lisa got up swiftly, gracefully. He may have animal instincts, but she _was_ the animal._ Step, boost, accelerate._ She propelled forward, knife slicing the air in front of her as she charged. Jackson had regained his balance and stepped out of her way.

"Leese, stop it!"

She went after him in short, quick strides. Minutes ago, Lisa had believed herself to be empty, numb; now she knew that was untrue. There was hate. There was fury. It threatened to suffocate her until the only way to breathe was to move, to attack. The blade in her hand was singing as she lunged, up, down, side to side, forcing Jackson to dance to its melody. No turning back now.

"Stop it _now_, damnit! You -"

Interrupted by another slash that found his forearm, Jackson cursed and jumped back several steps. If he had had the time, he might have gazed at the blood dripping down his wrist in confounded disbelief, but he had none. Lisa followed him relentlessly and without mercy. His threats could not scare her any longer. She was already dead, only her body had not yet caught on to the fact.

"Put the knife down! NOW! I don't want to hurt you!"

Her answer was a dash in his direction, the knife aimed at his throat at the end of an outstretched arm. Jackson let her come close, then smacked her wrist aside with brute force. Before she could react, he gave her a jab that had her flying across the room, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to find her footing. A split second later, Jackson was already on her again, sending Lisa to the floor with a push.

His breath was labored. "Last. Chance. Leese. Listen to me! I have -"

She kicked at his feet. He stumbled and finally collapsed as she tackled him clumsily. Going down together, Lisa's hand found the sides of his head and she whacked it against the carpet. Jackson's eyes rolled back, a low groan rumbling in his throat. Lisa stradled him, knees firmly planted on his arms as she pulled his knife from its sheath on the belt and raised it slowly. He calmly watched on through half-closed lids, awaiting the execution of his sentence with the faint trace of a smile settled in the corners of his mouth.


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Chapter 33**

"Congratulations." The slight, panting rasp in his voice reminded her of other times long gone. "Come on, Leese, you know you want to."

Her vision blurred. It was only when she saw the first small drops of water scatter on his cheek that she realized she was crying. The rasp had brought her back. "I will never be like you, Jackson." She tossed the knife aside with a hiss.

"Good news," he sighed. "Now can we -"

A fist to the temple knocked him out cold and he went limp beneath her. Lisa rolled off him and curled up on her side, head buried in her hands. _It's not over, get up. Get out._ Why? What for? She was drowning, drowning, drowning.

She could not for the life of her understand why – it didn't make a difference, after all - but something deep within her resented her fate, her destiny to lie still next to the man who had once again ruined her, wrecked her, until he would awake. Lisa struggled to her feet, dragging herself towards the exit. A moan stopped her in her tracks and hesitantly, she turned around to watch Jackson come back to his senses. Time to go, he was already trying to sit up.

"For fuck's sake, Leese, wait. You -"

Lisa stiffly hurried out the room, but something … someone blocked her.

"Well, well, well." Laritt reached out and grabbed her by the shirt. Shocked, but not senseless, Lisa managed to kick him in the groin, his agonized grunt music to her ears. Only for a second, though, because in the next, she was hunching over from the brutal punch to the stomach she had received as retribution. "Bitch!"

Jackson was on his feet and Lisa couldn't help but be amazed at him. Ruffled? Yes. Bleeding? Yes. Cocky? Confident? Yes on both accounts. "What exactly do you think you're doing here?"

"Just checking in … and with good reason, I gather. Time's up, Rippner."

"Says who?"

"Me. Oh yeah … me _and_ my business associate who's right outside, just aching to come in and see the look on your faces."

"Nothing you do can surprise me, Laritt."

"Care to bet?" He bowed, a strange gleam in his eyes. "Tadaaa!"

Lisa stiffened as she recognized the familiar figure casually stepping into the light.

It was Cherry.

"Now how about _that_, Rippner?" Laritt snickered, perverted joy oozing from his words like rancid oil. "Surprised?"

"You're right, I do love a good twist," Jackson laughed. He laughed! "There's just one thing … once again, you only come in second place."

Cherry raised her gun and squeezed the trigger.

BANG.

Everything around her froze into a bright painting that Lisa viewed idly with a wondering gaze. The force of the bullet had spun him around and Laritt hung mid-air, grotesquely reminiscent of Munch's "The Scream". He was all wide eyes and mouth, arms up as if to beg for mercy. A ragged hole in his shirt exposed the shredded flesh and bones of where he had been hit. Speckles of red dotted the picture, many of them floating right in front of Cherry who was closest. _Kind of stupid to wear a white top to a killing._ _She'll never get the blood out._ The other woman was poised in a wide stance, pointing the gun with outstretched arms, both hands on the weapon. She looked focused, yet fierce, a filmmaker's dream of embodied feminism, but this was no movie. It was real.

_(It's real.) This is real. _

Laritt slumped down with a heavy thud.

_MOVE!_

The instant Lisa heard the safety on the gun, she charged forward, pushing Cherry aside as hard as she could. In three quick steps she had darted out the door and slammed it shut behind her, ignoring the curse that accompanied her exit. Trembling fingers found the key in the pocket of her pants. She managed to turn it once, yelping in fear as a body crashed against the solid metal from the other side. The key fell down and she whipped around, sprinting to the elevator before she realized she didn't remember the right code. _Fire exit to the left!_ _It's open!_ Hurling herself at it, Lisa pretty much dove through the double-doors, racing down the steps a second later. Her feet pitter-pattered against the cold stone in dizzying speed, barely holding on. The last landing finally broke her rhythm and instinctively, Lisa turned the impending tumble into a jump, gasping at the strain her weight and speed put on her ankles. The wall broke her frantic stumble, cueing a dance of bright, colorful lights behind her eyelids. Staggering backwards from the impact Lisa hit the railing, knees bucking, then giving way.

The echo of double-doors barreling open shook her, briefly dispersing the billows of red fog that had clouded her mind. Every greedy gulp of air she took scorched like liquid fire from her throat all the way to her lungs and Lisa was trembling with exhaustion. Fighting and fleeing had given her a purpose, but now that traitor of a body turned against her, limbs heavy and tired. Rapid footsteps heralded her pursuer's fast approach. _Come on, get going!_ Lisa hauled herself up and continued into the garage, taking cover behind a car on the far end near the ramp to the lower level. She berated herself bitterly for not retrieving her knife when she had had the chance, because she would not be able to run much longer. And where to run? Could she even get out of the building without the proper ID?

"There's nowhere left to go!" Jackson was furious, no doubt about it. "I'm holding a 10mm Auto Glock 20 and I am fully prepared to shoot if you insist on -"

He was interrupted by a low, pressing murmur. Cherry. Unreasonably as she knew it was, Lisa had still held on to a small glimmer of hope that Jackson's associate might stay out of this. Alas, no such luck.

Voice more even, but nevertheless clearly struggling with barely suppressed anger, Jackson continued. "Let's clarify then. I am fully prepared to shoot _at_ you if you insist on leaving me no other choice. I promise I'm not going to kill you, but this stops now."

_Yeah, you just keep on talking._ Lisa didn't answer, almost choking from the effort to breathe without sound. The strained crawl down the ramp was all but hindered by muscles that threatened to cramp any minute now. Her mind was flooded with the desire to lie down, to simply await whatever was coming her way, conscious thought becoming more difficult by the second. Only her instincts urged her on.

"Lisa! Come on out, Lisa, you'll be fine!"

_No, Cherry, I won't. Not now, not ever._ Already, the words they kept calling out to her were muffled and Lisa ignored their meaning, focusing on how far away they seemed instead. Crouching down behind a red SUV, she scanned her surroundings for the fastest way to the exit. There was no exit. With tired, shaky hands, half angry and half resigned, she wiped at the hot tears on her cheeks, the lump in her throat bobbing up and down as she swallowed. This was the end, Jackson would win.

"Lisa." Cherry's voice yanked her out of her daze and Lisa snapped upright, reeling from the rush. "Easy there, girl, it's just me." A mama duck talking to her baby.

Lisa frowned, ankles throbbing as she shifted her weight. "Step back."

"You won't give in without a fight and I respect that." Cherry raised her fists. "So if you like, we can do this. Just remember, I'm not the one who's tired, okay?"

Stumped at the words themselves as much as at the soft, sympathetic manner in which they had been spoken, Lisa stammered, "You … you just s-shot a guy."

"Not the most exhausting job under the sun, honey." Cherry's arms came down slowly. "And he deserved it. Listen, why don't we -"

"What the hell is this?!" Apparently, Jackson could materialize out of nowhere.

Lisa flinched and whirled around. Who knew a broken heart could still skip a beat?

Cherry intervened. "We were just talking."

"Oh my, so sorry to interrupt that cozy girlish quality time then, but something tells me we need to take care of a corpse." Underneath that icy façade, he was seething. Lisa found it increasingly difficult to separate the past from the present as Jackson invaded her space, nearly sizzling with malice.

Lisa raised her chin. "Don't you dare touch me, Jackson!"

"What are you going to do about it?"

Her fist shot out, but Jackson caught it easily. He ruthlessly dug into her skin, teeth clenched in simmering anger. "Okay, you had your moment, you got your little revenge. It's not my fault you couldn't bring yourself to do it. But now I want you to suck it up and get the hell over it."

"Oh, get over it? Why didn't you say so before? Get over it! That all, _Jack_?" Lisa ripped herself free, ignoring his attempt to speak. "My father is dead, Jay is dead, Cynthia is dead. You killed them!" Her voice was shrill and loud. "But now it's been … uh … about an hour since I've heard. You're right, that _is_ kind of long. Sorry for inconveniencing you!" Lisa shoved him away, screaming. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Jackson grabbed her by the head in a move so familiar that it brought another pyramid of memories crumbling down around her. A hair's breadth before his forehead connected with hers, something flashed in his eyes and he pulled back with a curse. Instead of the searing pain Lisa had expected, she felt Jackson's fingers clamp around her wrists as he yanked her arms behind her back, his body forcing her against the car. They stood chest to chest; her desperate efforts to struggle free were rendered futile by his weight pushing her further into the cold metal. Loathe to look at him, Lisa twisted her face away and bit down hard on her lip to stop it from quivering. A few seconds passed, all quiet except for the sound of Jackson's labored breath that warmed her cheek. When he loosened his grip on her arms and Lisa dared to twitch, Jackson crashed into her again, the message clear: don't move. Not that she could, anyway. She was helpless as his hands entangled themselves in her hair, turning her head until she was forced to meet his gaze. With his lips pressed together and his nostrils slightly flared, Jackson studied her closely, obviously in search of a particular answer. How was she supposed to answer if she didn't even know the question? Either way, it didn't matter anymore. Lisa returned his probing stare with a wordless reply of her own. _I believed you. I hate myself for it and I hate you for making me feel this way. You betrayed me._

Jackson's eyes narrowed and then widened. Letting her go, he stepped back quickly, almost as if he had been burnt. "Hell, Leese," he sighed, "did you not _listen_ to me while you were scrambling away down here?"

"I was busy."

The atmosphere shifted. Oh, there was ire, alright, and impatience, indignation, irritated incredulity … in short, the whole Jackson Rippner spectrum. But what else?

"So you didn't hear what I said about your father and precious Cynthia and Jay?"

"No - and I don't want to, either." Lisa shuddered. "Keep your reasons to yourself. I hope you gag on them."

"Oh, I'm not going to apologize, but I sure as hell expect you to."

"Are you actually insane, Jackson? You must be! I can't possibly think of -"

He cut her short. "Had any cocktails lately? Because I know a great recipe. Take some vodka, a sedative and mix it with a smidge of poison, so the pictures you take look genuine. Inject antidote. Sound like a fun night?" Jackson started to walk away. "Draw your own conclusions. You know where to find me."

White noise.

From far away, Lisa faintly registered that Cherry supported her with an arm around the shoulder and she leaned into her, grateful for the contact with another human being. Thoroughly conflicted, she watched Jackson disappear into the stairwell. He had protected her family. It was as if a veil had been lifted and for the first time, Lisa could see clearly, could see the encounter with Laritt in a different light. In his strange way, Jackson had actually tried to protect her, as well.

"Why … why didn't he tell me? When I … why didn't he … I don't understand."

Cherry chortled and squeezed her briefly. "I'm pretty sure he tried."

_Thwudd._

Cherry fell and confused, Lisa bent down to her.

_Thwudd._

Pain.

Darkness.

------------------

**Author's note:** So here it is, Jackson hasn't killed them after all. Sorry for leaving you with yet another cliffhanger and this time, y'all are gonna hate me, because I'm leaving the country for two weeks. See you soon!


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's note:** Hello everyone, I'm back! Thanks for your patience ... and to make up for it, here's Chapter 34. But first and foremost I would like to thank all of you reviewers, especially the anonymous ones whom I can't thank personally. The amount and quality of feedback on the last few chapters has - honestly - left me floored. You people are awesome!

**Chapter 34**

_The surface was gone from her sight. No sound except for the rush of cold, cold water parting to ease her descent. So ready to surrender to the darkness that embraced her like a lover long lost, long forgotten. Why had she ever struggled towards the light? It brought nothing but hurt. She could almost taste it, taste the longing for oblivion on the tip of her tongue. Voices? Who dared to call her back? With the voices came afterthought and with it came shards of memories. They forced away the blissful numbness she had clung to like a baby on her journey down. _

"Lisa!"

_The sheen of a knife. She convulsed, fighting to stay in the safe, black depths of her own private ocean, away from the agony, away from the fear._

"Wake up, Lisa!"

_What was wrong with this picture? A prickling sensation in the palm of her hand, faint smears of red underneath her fingernails. The knife … it wasn't aimed at her. It was … it was in front of her, grasped firmly by her own fingers, moved by her own muscles. Blue eyes transfixed on her in disbelief. _

"You gotta wake up!"

_Like a firework, her past exploded in bright colors, illuminating the night sky of her mind. A shower of sparks, each their own story. Jackson … Laritt … Cherry … the garage … the cocktail recipe. There was still hope left._

"I swear, honey, I'm gonna punch you any minute now! WAKE UP!"

"HmmrrhmmI'mup."

"Thank God." Cherry sounded incredibly relieved. "I was starting to get worried. By all means, that sedative really shouldn't have had such a profound effect on you." She paused. "It was almost as if you tried to stay unconscious."

Lisa moaned as a sharp, piercing pain threatened to split her skull. "I did, initially. Thanks for getting me out."

"You're welcome." Cheeriness faded into worry. "I'm afraid you woke up to a very unpleasant reality."

Only one possible answer at this point. "Forbish, right?"

"Smart girl." Cherry's tone gave her away - they were in deep trouble.

Lisa struggled up and winced at the tight cuffs cutting into her wrists which had been bound together behind her back. Blinking her eyes rapidly to bring the world into focus, she took a good look around. What she saw elicited only weariness, not desperation: yet another basement room without windows. At least she wasn't alone this time; next to her was Cherry, fiddling with her own restraints.

"My … my father? And my friends?" Lisa's voice almost faltered.

"They're safe."

She shivered, suddenly aware how cold it was. "Why … how …"

Cherry scooted over until they were sitting side by side, shoulders touching. "Jackson and Laritt never got along. When the Keefe operation blew up and Jackson disappeared from the face of the earth, I suspected Laritt. I decided to go back to my roots and to work as an associate for him. Collect evidence, et cetera, et cetera." Cherry laughed softly, the sound quickly swallowed up by the oppressive nature of their gloomy prison. "Imagine my surprise when Jackson resurfaced and I learned the truth. We immediately saw the potential and agreed to carry on."

"When Laritt ordered my family to be killed, you -"

"I called Jackson for instructions. He wanted your family alive, so alive they stayed, no matter the consequences." She shrugged. "Good for your family, bad for us."

"What do you mean?"

"He risked complications … complications that ultimately led to this."

"So why did he do it?" Bitterness crept in. "What is it about me?"

"Hell if I know." Cherry smacked her lips. "However, I did notice that Jackson has never seemed so … alive before. You see, we have an understanding; he's got my back and I got his, but …" She leaned her head back and sighed, staring at the ceiling. "I have a hard time putting it into words. Jackson is smart, he's rational, precise and he's cold as a fish, right?"

"Are you honestly waiting for my acknowledgment?"

"Well _meow_, girl. Anyway, I always assumed that was his real nature and his charms a mere front, a means to an end. Something he uses to ensnare or reward people with. The mark is shy? Give Lisa a smile. The associate is trustworthy? Give Cherry a smile. What's behind it, though? Nothing that ever would smile so easily."

Lisa nodded, furiously ignoring the microscopic part of her that dared to disagree. _There's more. Always has been._ Shove it, Danielle Steel. "And now?

"I'm not so sure anymore." Cherry's eyes settled on Lisa's face, scanning it for a moment before she went on. "Whenever you're concerned, Lisa, there's emotion."

"He gets angry a lot, yeah. He's impatient with me. He derives pleasure from aggravating me."

"Oh, I'm not claiming that Jackson has turned into a purring kittycat." Once more, the mama duck shone through, motherly pride beaming brightly. Only that she and her little duckling were the same age and that aforementioned little duckling was a terrorist. God, this was a crazy world. "But there _is_ emotion and it's real. Our kind of people would consider this the beginning of his end. Businesswise, they are right, of course. Personally," Cherry paused, apparently still uncertain of her own views on the matter, "I might perhaps call it a start." She grinned. "Don't tell him I said that."

"My lips are sealed." Lisa's fake smile wavered badly.

"Hey." Cherry nudged her with her shoulder. "I can't speak for him, but here's my theory … you irritate the shit out of him. Why? Because you remind him of possibilities. It interrupts his holy life style."

A faint noise from outside made them jump, Lisa's heart immediately in her throat. When nothing happened, they both relaxed visibly.

Cherry exhaled slowly. "Forbish definitely considers you Jackson's weak spot."

"Do you think he has Jackson?"

"No, if Forbish had Jackson, we would be dead."

"Are we hostages?"

"Forbish would never try to blackmail the government directly, he's too discreet. And why should he?"

"Not the government, what about Jackson?"

"Blackmail Jackson with _us_?"

Lisa didn't care at all for the disillusion in Cherry's tone. "Well, yes. Wouldn't he at least attempt to help us?"

"Oh no, that's not the way this business works, honey. We're on our own."

This was dangerous territory and Lisa approached it carefully. "I somehow doubt this is news to you, but … technically, Jackson's not exactly _in_ the business anymore."

"I'm well aware of that." Cherry couldn't have been more indifferent if she tried.

It surprised Lisa. "You're okay with it?"

"Sweetie, I don't care where his funds come from. Money is money and his money has always been good to me."

"But you don't believe that he might come and … get us out?"

"Forbish seems to believe it, which is keeping us alive. I for one won't be complaining about that."

"What could he demand from Jackson?"

"Intel. With what Jackson has gathered so far and with all of Laritt's files in his possession, he could wreak havoc on various organizations."

That was good, wasn't it? "So in theory, he has enough to buy us free?"

"No," Cherry chortled, "in reality, he has enough to buy _himself_ free of whatever deal he cut with Keefe. Those are some mean odds against us."

Lisa stretched her legs, disheartened. "Apparently, I'm not enough of a weak spot."

"Don't be disappointed, you're in good company."

"That's not funny." Yet despite herself, Lisa had to giggle. Gathering the necessary resolve while at the same time annoyed at herself that she actually had to do so, she added grimly, "And for the record, I'm not disappointed."

"Really? Even if you're honest to yourself for just a teensy moment?"

"Now don't _you_ start with that." As far as hypnotic stares went, only Jackson's were more intense. Lisa ground her teeth, so sick of always playing the open book. "Fine," she spat, "I am, okay? Whenever it looks as if I'm about _thisclose_ to figuring it all out, Jackson turns around and does something that completely shakes me up." How easy it was to let the anger take over. "He's impossible! It's driving me crazy not knowing where it all comes from. He's so different from, uh, from everything! And what's more, I … I _want_ to understand. You see, there's this stupid little voice in my head that keeps on yapping, hey, maybe it's worth it. Maybe it's worth _something_. Shit!" Lisa struggled violently against her restraints. "SHIT!"

Cherry waited until the worst of the storm had blown over before she spoke. "I bet he'd say the exact same thing about you." She cleared her throat. "Scary feeling, huh?"

They didn't talk any more for a long time after that.


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Author's note:  
**Again, a huge Thank You to all who have read and reviewed. The level and quality of feedback floors me, frankly. You guys are the best! A special thanks to Royalty09 for her advice on this particular chapter, as well as her encouragement and humor in general.

**Chapter 35**

Three men entered – Forbish and two others. They were all dressed in a similar manner, carrying themselves in much the same way, yet obviously worlds apart in the pecking order. The room nearly hummed with tension as Jackson's ex trainer coolly mustered the two bound women on the floor.

"You must be Cherry." When he received no reply other than a wordless stare, Forbish cocked a brow. "I will pretend you don't know any better and give you one more chance. Are you, in fact, Cherry Stettyson?" All he got was a shit eating grin, so he bent down and frowned. "Stop acting foolishly, I don't suffer fools."

Cherry spat at him and his fist collided with her jaw, rocking it sideways with a sickening crunch. His expression completely impassive, Forbish hit her again. From the corner of her eye, Lisa saw blood and spit drip from the other woman's lips as she coughed and gurgled.

Forbish stood up straight, calmly wiping the saliva off his cheek. "Ms. Reisert, answer in her place. Is this Cherry Stettyson?"

Lisa looked up at Forbish who was looming over her like an Armani-clad specter, bathed in an aura of pure, undiluted malevolence. Then she spat at him.

----------

The phone was picked up after the first ring tone. Introductions were unnecessary, the parties were fully aware who they were talking to.

"Forbish has Lisa Reisert."

Fingers tightened around the receiver, knuckles turning white. "Tell me you're kidding, you fuck. How the hell did that happen?"

"She didn't pay attention."

"More like _you_ didn't pay attention." A deep breath. "Where are you?"

"Regarding our deal -"

"Where. Are. You." It wasn't so much a question as an order.

Only that orders didn't work on this man. "We both know that a collateral damage of _one_ isn't going to change our deal, so let's get right to it."

"Listen -"

"And we both know that the United States of America won't be paralyzed by a pair of sad, sad doe eyes." There was a short, heavy pause and when the voice continued, poignant sarcasm had drowned out large parts of its dispassion. "What is it about the girl? Care to enlighten me, Whitley? You all do love that bounce-back-fight-back spirit, don't you? Or is it the whole silent pleading thing that she has down so well? Ooooh, be better, ooooh, do better." Sarcasm changed to anger. "Can't stand the thought of 'letting her down'? You'd _think_ she would have learned her lesson by now. Business is business. Life is no merry dance on a spring meadow. People are people. _End of story._"

"You talking about her, me or yourself here, Rippner?"

Click.

In truth, Rippner was correct - the United States of America were immune to a pair of sad, sad doe eyes. Heavy heart yes or no, Keefe would want to go ahead on the deal anyway, which left Whitley with exactly one last chance, one last try to free Lisa Reisert. He raked his hands through that 200-Dollar-haircut of his, vile curses streaming from his mouth.

----------

Lisa was curled up in a fetal position and felt her heart hammer against her ribs, causing a sharp pang of pain with every beat. Forbish had kicked her in the sides, once, twice, several times until she was screaming. It was only when her screams subsided and her grasp on consciousness had diminished considerably that he had stopped, examining her laconically. Then the three men had left in silence.

Jaw clenched tightly in a determined effort to hold the tears at bay, Lisa glanced at Cherry who was lying with her back to her, moaning softly every now and then. "Ch … Cherry?" It was so hard to speak; everything hurt.

The other woman turned around. "Mhmmm?" She was sickly pale, thick lines of crusty red running down a face that was lumpy with swollen bruises.

"Anything broken?"

"No." The words came out slurred. "Twisted my neck, loosened some teeth. Fuck."

Lisa stared at her and swallowed. "That wasn't very smart of us."

"Agreed." Cherry groaned as she sat up. "Didn't think you'd follow suit."

"Reflex, I guess." Lisa winced at the memory. "What now?"

"Not much. Rest, regain some strength, focus."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It's not, but it's the only thing left to do at this point."

A tidal wave of frenzy rolled over her. "That cannot _possibly_ be the only thing!"

"What else would you have us do?" Cherry grimaced. "We're hurt, we're cuffed and we're being guarded by who knows how many. Calm down, this isn't the end of the story - it's just the end of this chapter, okay?"

They huddled together as the cold started to creep into their sore bodies and Lisa allowed her mind to retreat into soft, salty arms that washed her into oblivion.

----------

"Yes?"

He didn't know the man. Once, there had been a time when he had known every single man to pick up that phone. "This is Jackson Rippner."

"Hold on."

The line went dead and long, elegant fingers tapped against a certain brown folder.

"Jackson?"

"Yep."

"I am disappointed in you." Forbish sounded calm; a good many had died of believing it.

Well, the same was true for Jackson. "That's unfortunate. What's your proposal?"

"The two women for all your files. And Laritt's."

"Too expensive."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Two women, two organizations and all their respective files. Take your pick."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not."

How quickly and comfortably they had settled back into their old routine, business talk that went back and forth, back and forth. Detached, matter-of-factly, with lethal consequences. They were both masters at their game.

Forbish chuckled. "You forget who you're talking to."

"Believe me, I am well aware of that."

"You seem very confident for a man in a pickle."

"There's comfort in the knowledge that I'm not the only one. Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"I was just going to give you the same advice."

Jackson breathed a little exasperated sigh into the speaker, the equivalent of rolling his eyes. "Is this leading somewhere or are we just playing?"

"That depends entirely on you."

"Well, what I have here is a _very_ big stack of papers with your name on them … and your suppliers' names. Even some of your clients' names. Great stuff, really."

"You'll never survive this, Jackson. I'm your only chance."

"And I yours."

"I have support, wealthy organizations that will do everything in their power to stop you. You got no one in your corner, boy. You have a good head on your shoulders, don't start acting stupid now. Hand over the files and walk away."

Ah, the daddy speech. Make a threat, serve it with a compliment to take off a bit of the edge. Big dog's advice to the little pup. Only that the little pup has hidden all of big dog's food in the garden - and big dog is hungry. Jackson leaned back in his chair. "Let's talk business. Neither of us is willing to accept the standing offers, so it's time for compromise."

"No compromise."

"Suit yourself."

Click.

A few seconds later, the phone rang and Jackson picked it up with a satisfied smile.

"That was a very stupid thing to do, Jackson."

"I was making a point."

"That you're a careless, cocky fool?"

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen … Colin Forbish was officially hooked. Jackson's features slid into a grin and he enjoyed translating it into words. "A wise teacher once told me that a personal insult – not to be confused with a controlled provocation - during a business meeting is a sure sign the other side is weak."

"It's a pity, I almost forgot how good you are. I should have shot you in the garage."

"Pity has nothing to do with it. If you could have shot me right then, you would have, but that was a risk you obviously weren't prepared to take. Under these circumstances and with these stakes, I don't blame you. Your proposal?"

"All the files with my name on them and that's my last offer."

"Very costly."

"Last chance, Jackson. Don't muck it up, you don't want to make me angry."

"And here I was under the impression that you already _were_ angry with me."

"All I want to hear from you at this point is 'I accept'. Are you going to say it or am I going to terminate our conversation and start planning your untimely demise?"

Jackson's forehead creased at the sight of the glossy, black and white image of a young woman walking through the lobby of the Lux Atlantic. Short, quick strides. Head up, shoulders back. A professional smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Jackson?"

He snapped the folder shut and tossed it to the others on his desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose in slow, circular motions. Jackson rested his elbows on the laptop and drew a deep breath, carefully turning away from the speaker.

"You still there?"

"I accept. I will locate the files and get back to you."

Jackson hung up the phone, staring straight ahead. A few seconds passed during which he was absolutely still, unmoving, unblinking. Then he gave a sharp nod and pursed his lips while swift fingers dialed another number.

"What is it, Rippner?"

"It's on."

"When? Where?"

"No details yet. You better prepare your best agents."

"What?"

"I'm not suicidal. Forbish wants me dead, no matter what."

Click.

Cell in hand, Whitley ran straight to Keefe's office.


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's note:** Sorry for the long wait, but holidays, New Year's things and a bit of a struggle with this particular point in the story got in my way. I hope Chapter 36 makes up for it. Many thanks to Royalty09 for her helpful advice.

Also, I have noticed that the PM system seems to be out of order yet again. I love your feedback and WILL answer to all signed reviews as soon as I can. A big Thank You of course to all you anonymous reviewers, too!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Chapter 36**

Forbish's henchmen dragged rather than led them to another, much friendlier room. A wooden table with food on it, a couple of chairs, a small adjoining bathroom. No windows. Without a word, the men unlocked the handcuffs and left. The sharp click of a key being turned broke the silence.

Lisa peered at the plates. "Is this our last supper?"

"Might be. Either way, I wouldn't eat it." The other woman glanced around. "There's a sink in the bathroom … at least we have water."

Lisa watched the steady trickle going down the drain turn pink as Cherry washed her face. Too restless to sit, she strolled through their new prison, examining it closely.

Cherry gurgled. "Find anything?"

"Like what?"

"Impromptu weapons. Rumor has it you're some kind of expert in that particular area."

"Oh ha-ha." Lisa massaged her temples. "The cutlery's made of plastic."

"Doesn't make much of a difference if the knife in your eye is plastic or metal."

The mental image made her sick to the stomach. "This is it, huh?"

"Yeah." Cherry leaned against the doorframe, drying herself with a towel. "Whatever pain you're in right now, it's nothing compared to what's ahead." She tossed it aside carelessly. "This is our only chance."

"So … we wait until they come back and then we attack? That our plan?"

"Got a better one?" The harshness in Cherry's tone softened somewhat as she approached Lisa with a weary smile. "Listen, we have one advantage - you."

"Me?!"

"They know who I am and they know what I am, but you … you're just a punk to them, an amateur, and a sissy little girl on top of that. Whatever you have managed to pull off so far, they'll chalk up to sheer luck. Some massive egos at work here."

"Don't forget they're right! I'm no … no Trinity or something."

"Fine, so you're no Trinity, but you're desperate, you're determined and you _are_ aware that you_'_re going to die if we don't make it out of here."

"I can't do this!" Lisa shook her head. "I can't just ... plan to kill people!"

"I expect nothing from you that you haven't done before, Lisa." Lisa wasn't sure which scared her more – the absolute finality in Cherry's words or the simple truth. "All I want is for you to make the first step. They'll keep a closer watch on me and that's our one and only leverage. Forget about the grey, focus on the black and white! We die, they live - they die, we live. Nothing is simpler."

Lisa pressed her trembling hands to her ears, not wanting to hear another sentence. Too late; Cherry's voice had wormed itself into her very brain, swirling and twisting, setting in motion a chain of thought that ended with the inevitable. There was a fundamental mistake in the other woman's argument somewhere … something to do with the lofty difference between acting and reacting, something to do with ... _Geez, knock it the hell off, you dreamer, you're on your own. No other way out._ "O-okay."

"Good." Cherry squeezed her arm. "It isn't easy, honey, but that's your path and you gotta walk it. We have to be fast, we have to be deadly. You kill a guy, you take his weapon and his ammunition. We need all the firepower we can get."

Lisa nodded slowly, the weight of the world on her shoulders. "How?"

----------

Whitley was driving, casting a sidelong glance at the man in the passenger seat. Jackson Rippner was quiet, staring into the distance with a shrouded eye, and if it weren't for the whiteness of his knuckles, he would have almost seemed relaxed.

Apparently sensing the attention, Rippner sat up abruptly. "We'll be there soon."

The panorama had gradually changed from city to suburbs to rural. About twenty minutes ago they had passed the last little town and entered a stretch of land that was dominated by forests and greenery, the occasional house in between.

"Right." Whitley chomped on his gum, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

"Your guys ready?"

"Yeah."

The remoteness of the meeting place proved to be one of the riskiest factors in the entire operation. Forbish certainly had all roads under surveillance, so sneaking in their reinforcements with them was difficult. Evaluating their options, Whitley had decided to go in alone at first, with an air strike by helicopter if – correction: as soon as - push came to shove. His agents would be at Forbish's in about seven minutes.

A lot could happen in seven minutes.

----------

They had thrown the trays across the room, painting an interesting picture of spilled drink and food onto the floor. Lisa was hoping with all her heart that their fabricated chaos would divert the spotlight off the missing knives. The lock turned and instinctively, she huddled against the wall, into Cherry's arms.

The two men – Lisa had christened them Grey and Navy after the color of their suits - stepped inside and closed the door, taking in the mess with a bored look before they deliberately advanced on the two women.

"Listen, guys, Lisa is scared and she just needs -"

Grey raised his hand. "Let's go back to the other room without any fuss, girls."

"Hold on a second!" Pity she was a terrorism enabler, Cherry could have been one hell of an actress.

"Miss Stettyson, step away." It was true, both men focused on her rather than on the sniveling civilian girl. _Get ready._

Cherry released Lisa slowly, slinking back along the wall, and Grey followed her swiftly. It didn't make much of a difference, yet Lisa felt relieved that Navy, the slighter of the two, was to be her opponent. He held her in check with merely one careless arm while most of his attention was on the blonde woman.

"Take it easy, Grey." Their code … it was up to Lisa now.

Finally, Navy made his mistake.

He opened his mouth to speak, no doubt to issue a command, letting go of her completely. Lisa had planned this moment over and over and over, yet now that it had come, all she wanted to do was to curl up and vomit. Spit pooled underneath her tongue. _NO!_ _You HAVE to do this._ Lisa obeyed.

She pummeled his chest with the knife, but tears she hadn't known she was shedding obscured her vision. Grunting a curse, he stumbled and Lisa launched herself at him. She might as well have jumped a pile of bricks; Navy caught her easily, smashing her against the wall. Her bruised ribs blazed out an agonizing flash of pain and in a blurry haze, Lisa saw Grey and Cherry go at it, their moves controlled, effective. Even though she was bleeding, the blonde woman appeared to be in control, a broken wineglass in her hands slashing at Grey every now and then. His pistol lay at his feet, but she left him no time to pick it up. _We can still win. Don't muck it up now._ Almost as if he had heard Lisa's thoughts, Navy kicked her. His dismissive snort rekindled the angry flame that seemed to burn so closely beneath the surface nowadays and Lisa's fingers fumbled around for a more potent weapon, finding one. Like a snake in the grass, she struck at his heels; the shard of glass sliced through his tendons with a snap. Navy went down.

"His gun, Lisa!"

Lisa ground her knee into his groin as she crawled on top of him. Navy heaved, swatting at her, and the force of his arm sent her weapon flying out of her grasp. With a desperate cry, she pushed her weight down onto his neck while she reached into his pocket. _There!_ Lisa toppled over backwards, chilled metal firmly in her grip.

"LISA!"

She sat up, a heavy heart thumping in her chest. Rubber legs sleepwalked her over to Cherry, who had managed to force Grey even further away from his pistol. Lisa felt all eyes on her; other than that, the room was perfectly and eerily still.

"Give me the gun, Lisa." When she didn't react, Cherry promptly pried it from her shaking, bloody hands. "Don't look, honey."

Lisa's silent pleas turned shrill. "Wait! We don't have to sh-"

BANG!

Cherry moved.

BANG!

'_Nothing is simpler.'_ Oh God, what a lie.

----------

"Jackson Rippner?"

"Yes, Jackson Rippner and his associate, Richard Williams."

From the looks of the massive iron gate, Whitley had anticipated a loud, creaking noise, but it slid apart quickly, silently. He pressed his lips together and slowly drove along the gravel driveway. Let the games begin.

_(Bang!)_

"FUCK! What was that?" Whitley jumped on the brakes, well-trained eyes immediately skimming their surroundings while he grabbed his gun.

"Keep moving!"

"They're shooting." Whitley pulled out his cell and pressed a button. Seven minutes.

"They're not shooting at _us_! MOVE!"

"What the -" He was cut short by a cold steel barrel to the temple.

"I told you to keep moving and if you don't want your brains plastered all over the damn windshield, you're going to do _exactly_ as I say."

"Easy, Rippner."

"We need to hurry." For a moment, Whitley thought he was hallucinating. Jackson Rippner, High King of Heartless Bastard Land, actually sounded urgent, voice rumbling with something more than its usual detached calculation. Also, he was grinning from ear to ear. "It's the ladies."


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Author's note:** Okay, the message system seems to working again - I hope I didn't jinx it now! Arghs. Anyway, I hope everyone got their review replies. Thanks to Royalty09 for her neverending patience with me and my whining and also thanks to First Noelle and emptyvoices for their humor and constant encouragement.

**Chapter 37**

"Okay, this is a Beretta 92. Safety on." Snap. "Safety off. Fifteen shots per magazine. This is how you change it. Got that?" Cherry showed it to her again. "Don't point that thing at _me_, for fuck's sake! Point it over there!"

It couldn't have been more than two or three minutes since Grey and Navy's death, but it seemed like ages to Lisa. Cherry had pretty much carried her out of the room, along the hall into a little niche that provided a good view and some protection.

"We need to find an exit. Keep your eyes open," Cherry mustered her briefly, "and don't go all action-hero's-love-interest on me now. I can't do this alone! Pull yourself together, take charge of the situation. You're _that_ kind of girl, remember?"

Outside, they could hear a car screeching to a halt, accompanied by the distinctive _khak-khak-khak_ of gunfire. Cherry grabbed her and ran towards the stairway, peeking around the corner to see whether they were clear to go. "You ready?"

As much as it shocked her, made her feel guilty even, Lisa _was_ ready. Fear and determination iced her blood and she tightened her grip on the weapon as she nodded. Rapid footsteps approached; quick as lightening, Cherry leaned forward, shooting twice. Her actions induced a yelp and then something heavy tumbling down until two bodies hit the landing, twisted and broken. The other woman patted them down, bursting into a quick, terse smile when she found four more loaded Berettas plus extra ammunition. "Here!" Like a pirate's treasure, Cherry split their loot. "And now let's be quick, okay?"

Despite the last statement, they crept up the stairs with great care and a slowness that threatened to rob Lisa of her last nerve. The noise from outside indicated a skirmish … but between whom? Against all better judgment, something in Lisa dared to inject her with a sudden dose of hope, yet she strictly forbade herself to give that hope a certain name. _Stop it, it's not him._

Again, Cherry peered around the corner. "This is ground floor," she whispered. "When I say go, you run to the hallway door and close it. Hug the left wall, blast everything that moves - I'll give you cover."

Lisa forced a quiet yes through clenched teeth. For a split second, her memories transported her back into her field hockey days, into those electrifying moments right before the referee would blow the whistle. _Focus. You control your game._ She sprinted towards her goal with outstretched arms, brandishing her pistol like a banner. Bruised ribs pounded pain into every hasty step she took. There! She slammed the door shut and glanced back at Cherry who was pushing a wooden table in her direction. "Help me with this!" Together, they blocked the entrance.

The window was on the back side of what could only be described as Forbish's mansion. A wide stretch of manicured English Lawn separated them from what seemed to be a fairly thick forest. Light-brown terracotta tiles formed a walkway that came from around both corners of the house and met in the middle, leading out into the lawn and making a circle around a fountain, which was lined by pink roses and framed by large, Roman stone pillars. It could have been a lovely garden if it weren't for the high wall - complete with floodlights and barbed wire - that obviously surrounded the property.

"If we make it into that forest ..." Cherry glanced around. "Run to the first pillar on the right. Then you give _me_ cover, understood?"

Lisa barely found the strength to nod; as soon as her feet touched the ground outside, she flitted across the distance and crouched against the coarse stone. From the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of movement from the left side of the house and without thinking, she raised her weapon, spewing slugs into the general direction of the dark-clad man who had tried to hurry towards her. He immediately jumped back into safety. A window on the second floor opened - yet another goon.

"Cherry!" Lisa ducked behind the pillar, out of sight for the shooter in the house. Unfortunately, this also meant that the other one was not in _her_ sight anymore. She heard his footsteps pound through the grass until a loud bang stopped him - literally - dead in his tracks.

"Lisa! Keep that bastard up there occupied!"

_Easier said than done._ Lisa carefully aligned herself so she could target Forbish's henchman in the house without becoming too much of a target herself. Gulping for breath, she started firing, feeling the cold metal twitch in her sweaty palm until a hallow click announced her magazine to be empty. It seemed as if she had hit everything _but_ her opponent, yet she had won nonetheless – Cherry was at her side and unharmed, squinting as she squeezed the trigger.

"Ha, gotcha! Okay, Lisa, over to the next one, go! Go!"

In this fashion, they sped from pillar to pillar, battling enemies at every turn. Even though her aim improved somewhat, Lisa's bullets provided little more than a diversion while Cherry's, on the other hand, continued to hit their marks with fatal accuracy. At the last pillar the other woman pulled her close.

"Do you hear that? Almost sounds like … hmm." Cherry's tone was pensive. From far away, the distant echo of thunder rumbled through the air. "Okay, two hundred yards to the forest and nothing to hide behind. We gotta be fast."

They almost made it, too.

About twenty yards away from the trees, Cherry suddenly yelled a warning and jerked up her pistol. Hot lead whistled by. Lisa's shocked gasp turned into a scream when she saw the other woman go down, still issuing rounds into the woods. A loud cry, followed by the sound of branches cracking under weight, proclaimed their attacker's obliteration. Lisa flew to Cherry's side, horrified at the bloody mess which, a mere ten seconds ago, had been a healthy leg. She tried to help her up, nearly wailing with frustration as she watched her partner's eyes dim with pain. "CHERRY!"

"You gotta run, girl."

"Hold on to me, just hold on to me, okay?"

"That's sweet." Cherry attempted a smile. "It really is, but you have to go."

"Not without you, I'm not!"

With a shaky hand, Cherry pointed at the house which spat out more and more of Forbish's well-dressed dogs, all armed to the teeth. "Too many," she panted.

The thunder grew louder and Lisa gazed up at the blue sky, wrinkling her face in confusion. What the hell? Yet anything she had intended to say got stuck in her throat at the sight of the battered car swerving around the corner in a wide drift, ripping tire tracks into the green grass. It came right at them.

"Lisa, if you don't start scrambling off now, I'll shoot you myself." Cherry's voice held no warmth anymore; the blond bartender had disappeared completely, had stepped aside for Jackson Rippner's business associate.

"Forget it, you -"

"I'll count to five. One … two …" Only the tiniest flicker in her mantis stare told a different story, the tale of someone who meant well. Why? Lisa might never find out.

The car had passed the fountain and was now drawing near with alarming speed, honking incessantly. In a few moments, they would get run over.

"GO!"

Lisa darted into the forest, deeply ashamed of herself. _I didn't even thank her._ A violent gust of wind shook the trees; finally, she recognized the origin of the deafening noise she had mistaken for thunder. Helicopters! Lisa turned and cast a long, desperate look at the spot where she had left her partner. Even though it had stopped, the car was still honking, the open passenger door obscuring whoever was hiding behind. Lisa could see Cherry being dragged towards it and for a split second, they locked eyes. Cherry mouthed something, but Lisa couldn't catch the meaning. _She's probably telling me to flee._ It made her heart ache and her stomach churn. _At the very least,_ _I owe you this much._ Slowly, carefully, Lisa raised the gun in her hand, aiming at the brownish mop of hair she could make out through the leaves. While the helicopters landed on the lawn and all hell broke loose around her, Lisa herself was calm, focused. Her fingers no longer trembled as she secured them around the heavy weapon, trigger cool against her skin.

The bullet hit the passenger side window, yet didn't pierce the glass. Helplessly, Lisa had to watch the mop of hair duck down and Cherry being yanked into the car.

_I'm good for nothing._

_She died for nothing._

_Wait._

Cherry had sent her off so she would stand a chance, so she would live. To give up now was to throw away a present that had cost a life. Tears streaming down her face, Lisa wanted nothing more than to prove herself worthy of such present. She made her way deeper into the darkness of the woodwork, where the car couldn't follow her.


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Author's note:** Ha, how's _that_ for a quick update? I might just give BregoBeauty a run for her money here, haha. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, it will answer some of the most popular questions. Thanks as always for your kind reviews and encouragement.

**Chapter 38**

There _must_ be a way out.

During the last few minutes, this had been the one sentence Lisa had clung to with feverish determination as the moldy smell of wood and earth started to fill her nostrils. The thick, green crowns of the trees filtered out the light to a point where it became difficult to see anything but shadows; if it weren't for the noise of crackling guns she was running away from, Lisa wouldn't have had a clue where she was actually going. She ploughed on recklessly, throat raw with exertion and fear.

She tripped over a root and before she could catch herself, she lay sprawled in the mud. Fighting the urge to just stay down, Lisa was rubbing her forehead when she suddenly heard the telltale sound of someone else forcing their way through the bushes. Apparently aware that she wasn't moving anymore, the other person stopped, as well. A few seconds passed. _Shit!_ _Do something!_ Lisa's eyes roamed the darkness for a clue on his whereabouts - to no avail. Mustering all her courage, she fired blindly, hoping to draw out her adversary. It worked. He sprinted towards her, taking cover behind a tree, and Lisa sprayed him with lead. Again, silence.

What was that?

Leaves rustled softly and for a terrifying moment, she got the distinct impression that there were _two_ people closing in on her. _That can't be. You would have heard._ Lisa tensed up, prepared to end this melee by whatever force necessary. Her opponent inched away from the trunk and a shot rang out from right behind her. Lisa shrieked as she whirled around to face the attacker, but it was too late. He smashed her weapon aside as his body landed on top of hers, driving the air from her lungs. Lisa screamed into his chest, frantically trying to push him away, desperate to wrestle free. A familiar scent stopped her cold and she inhaled it deeply, searching for the answer to a question she didn't dare to ask out loud. Her fingers dug into his shirt, pulling him closer, and when Lisa finally whispered his name, she could feel Jackson's muscles relax until it was more like he was cradling her, rather than pressing her down.

"I knew you'd come."

Jackson's expression was strangely solemn, with just the smallest hint of a smile hiding in the slight quirk of his lips. He looked down on her. "I bet you did."

She couldn't resist. "What kept you so long?"

"I got shot at."

There was a secret message behind the mocking pout he was sporting as he helped her up; it took her a second to understand. "Oh my God, that was _you_ in the car?"

"Yes." Jackson's voice grew irritated. "You see, here's me playing the knight in shining armor, I'm riding in on my bullet-ridden horse to save the distressed damsels and I'm telling Whitley to honk that damn horn, honk it and -" He was heckled by a loud SPHRTF! and frowned as he watched Lisa shake with stifled laughter while – very discreetly – trying to wipe off the piece of snot that had torpedoed out her nose.

Fist firmly pressed to the mouth, she asked, "You were telling Whitley to 'honk that damn horn, honk it'?" Lisa collapsed against him, laughing and crying at the same time. Just what fueled these tears, she couldn't say, yet with every salty drop some of the pressure and anxiety seemed to trickle out, as well.

Jackson didn't comfort her, but neither did he pelt her with one of his scathing remarks. Instead, he just stood there, arms around her shoulders in an attempt to keep her steady, until Lisa had calmed down. He gingerly lifted her chin, tracing her features with his gaze. "So, Giggles, how ready are you to get the hell out of here?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

When she shifted towards where they had come from, Jackson grabbed her by the sleeve. "Back there? Do you _want_ to get caught in a firefight?" His fingers interlaced with hers. "No, no, we'll try to make it through the woods, over the wall." He started walking, still holding her by the hand. "On foot. Thanks for that, by the way."

Lisa flinched. "Will Cherry be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, she will be. She and Whitley are probably chilling out pool-side at the nearest hotel by now, sipping Sea Breezes and going, 'Hey, ever wondered what happened to those idiots who ran _away_ from safety, _into_ the forest?'"

Judging by his tone, Jackson's mood was deteriorating, but Lisa needed it said. "Rescuing me … you do realize that's definitely a good deed, right?"

"Hah." He cut his eyes to her and even through the semi-darkness, she could see the spark in them. Jackson turned, quickening the pace. "You're not rescued yet. And I came back for Cherry, anyway." Lisa could have sworn he was grinning.

In a matter of moments she had worked out his rhythm and followed it with ease. They didn't speak; a tug, a squeeze, a halt in the step or the tensing of muscles was all they required to communicate. Every once in a while the reality of the situation, the memories of what had passed, made Lisa clasp him in a vise-like grip for a second or two and she was as surprised at herself as she was at Jackson, who would return her grip without fail. She wondered when exactly they had come to reach this strange understanding, when exactly they had morphed into this – two people gliding through the greenish twilight in perfect harmony.

The crack of a branch interrupted her musings.

Jackson dove down behind a pile of felled trees, yanking Lisa along. He raised his gun and put another one onto the ground next to him. _A Beretta 92?_ Lisa shuddered when more noise reached her ears … how many men were actually out there? She pulled out her own pistol and squinted, willing them to come out of hiding so they could finally get this nightmare over with. A shadow approaching them from up ahead went down immediately as their combined bullets found him. The gloomy silence after the echo of his dying yell played Twister with her frazzled nerves.

"That was a waste of ammo, Leese," Jackson murmured. "Lay low, save yours. I'll handle this, understood?"

"I thought you were a lousy shot?"

"Too lousy to be a high-class sniper, more than good enough for the rest."

In spite of her worries, Lisa complied. More men attacked and Jackson took them out one by one, the muscles in his arms rippling from the effort while his face transformed into a mask of stony concentration, soon covered in a faint sheen of sweat. They were lucky that their current position actually worked to their advantage - Forbish's men could not get close without giving up the safety of the trees. Not that getting close was a requirement, Lisa pondered, as round after round whipped through the air around her. She pressed her chin into her chest, afraid the flying pieces of bark would rip her to shreds. After a few minutes, Jackson ran out of ammunition just as his current opponent tried to come near, but he had his other weapon up in the next second and Forbish's dog dead in the one after that.

Lisa let out a deep, shuddering breath, shaky with relief. Before she knew what she was doing, she had grabbed his Beretta and exchanged the empty magazine with one of her own, putting it back where he had cast it down. "Gun ready, Jackson."

The twitch in his jaw acknowledged her words as he continued to lure the attackers to their demise, always aware of their moves, almost as if he anticipated them. Lisa had been well aware of Jackson's cunning nature, his intelligence, his ability to make quick decisions, yet never before had she seen him bring those traits into a firefight. It fascinated, appalled, excited and soothed her at the same time.

Then, suddenly, it was quiet.

Lisa physically bristled with the foreboding that tautened her muscles, registered a tight little ball of fright gain momentum in her mind. _This isn't over yet._ Apparently, Jackson disagreed; his joints cracked when he carefully hoisted himself up inch by inch. _Don't._ The air around them seemed to be charged with … something, licking at her skin, causing it to erupt in goose bumps that were so intense, they hurt. Jackson rose in slow-motion and the sound of the rustling fabric sent a white-hot current through her veins. Lisa swallowed, nearly coughing from the dry tickle in her throat. _DON'T._ Her fingers curled at the sight of him starting to straighten, twisting his neck very much like a deer trying to sniff out its hunter. Something wasn't right, her instincts screamed, and she let go of her reins on them with a scream of her own as she jumped up, shoving him hard. "JACKSON!"

Another round splintered the wood right where his head had been the split fraction of a second ago. Jackson hissed a stream of curses to accompany his leaden reply into the bushes while Lisa looked on, briefly confused at the odd angle until she realized she had fallen over backwards. The instant that thought pierced her consciousness, her brain released another valuable piece of information – discomfort. Dumbfounded, her attention shifted to her left shoulder which was oozing blood. Strangely enough, it actually felt kind of nice, the way the searing cold sensation gradually turned warm, and Lisa gave in, allowing herself to drift along, up into the sallow skies.

A few minutes - hours? – later, Jackson was crouching at her side; his fingers worked softly and swiftly, wiping blood, kneading skin, fashioning a bandage from his shirt sleeve. "We were lucky, the bullet only grazed you. The wound is fairly deep and no doubt painful, but you'll be okay." Jackson stood up and held out his hand.

"I can't." She was so tired of it all. Even before it had begun, Lisa could already hear the impending argument play out – 'Yes, you can.' – 'No, I can't.' – 'This isn't an issue of _can't_, Leese.' – 'You're wrong.' Was he, though? Oh to hell with it, she had fought and she had fought well … that ought to count for something, right?

Jackson bent down to her once more. "Leese, I am ruthless, I am selfish, I am strictly goal-oriented. As a matter of fact, I take pride in those qualities. And now that I have gone through all this extra trouble, you just quit on me?" He clicked his tongue, tugging at her shirt. "Is that the important life lesson you want me to learn?"

"I am not your own personal Yoda, Jackson!" _Want a life lesson? Keep pushing my buttons._ "You do like the rest of us and figure it out yourself."

"It's good to see you're not too hurt to give me attitude."

"Yeah, I've adjusted to your general pattern of behavior quite nicely, thanks." Anger quickened her heartbeat and Lisa wasn't entirely sure whether she welcomed the familiar simmering heat in the pit of her stomach. It drew her back into his world.

"Okay, okay. Here's the thing: I would carry you, I truly would, but -" Jackson's expression was so sincere, so austere … it made her ache for something – _anything_ – from him that would give her a reason to get up, to persist. "But you have gained quite a few pounds since the flight, I really doubt I'd be capable of that."

Lisa rocketed to her feet. Her shoulder must have stopped bleeding instantly, because whatever blood she had left all rushed into her cheeks, setting them afire with furious indignation. "You … BASTARD!" She went after him, fiercely determined to pistol-whip the living daylights out of that thick skull of his as soon as she had managed to cross the distance Jackson so wisely kept between him and her.

A sudden dizziness buckled her knees. Before Lisa could crumple, however, Jackson had caught her, carefully avoiding any further damage to her injury. He pressed her flat against his chest which was reverberating with a deep, juicy belly laugh that eventually turned lighter, into a sound of pure amicable humor. His tight embrace simply smothered any resistance; breathing a little sigh of surrender, Lisa grew limp, head tucked into the crook of his neck. Yes, he had gotten to her yet again and yes, this time it was actually a good thing. After one last hearty chuckle and a few gulps of air, Jackson deliberately loosened his grasp and held her away at arm's length.

There definitely was a touch of teasing satisfaction in the twinkle of his eyes, but rather than calling her out, it seemed to seal a silent deal between conspirators. By all standards, Jackson Rippner might never be a kind man; still, he understood her and the quick, sly wink that topped off his knowing smile told her it was alright.

Finding it impossible not to smile in return, Lisa thanked him with a shy nod. "Let's move, Hansel."


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Author's note:** Well, this story is definitely nearing the end. The next chapter is the last, full chapter and then there's only an epilogue left ... . Thanks as always for the wonderful feedback, you guys have really been kind to me. And a very big thanks to Royalty09, who kept me sane and on track during this difficult point in the story.

**Chapter 39**

"Never in my life have I ever been so happy to see a stupid wall."

"Well, Leese, I aim to please." Jackson pointed at a tree. "That branch reaches over and seems thick enough to carry at least one of us at a time."

"Any other day I'd already be _on_ the damn thing," Lisa grimaced, "but my ribs are kind of worried about the climb down."

"What's the matter with your ribs?"

"Ah, nothing … never mind." Of course he didn't buy it and this being Jackson, he'd most likely badger her until she caved in. "Forbish … he kicked me." Lisa ignored his attempt to speak with a confidence she didn't honestly possess. "It's okay, really."

The pain was exquisite. Lisa forced herself to focus on the task at hand instead of the persistent, scorching protests by her various injuries as she slowly made her way from branch to branch, over to the wall and to the ground. It proved to be a tough battle, yet she prevailed, neither choking from the hurt, nor dissolving in tears. After the somewhat rough landing - no surprise there - she must have blacked out, because the next thing her senses picked up was cool, damp grass tickling her skin.

"Well done, Leese." He did a last check on the fresh bandage on her shoulder. "Especially with that 'nothing' of yours. Those bruises don't look too good." When he noticed the sudden stiffness in her body, Jackson shook his head with a sigh. "For crying out loud, I didn't take a naughty peek." He helped her up; the manner in which he whisked the dirt off her back was maybe just a tad too vigorous.

A little taken aback by the underlying accusation, Lisa murmured, "Reflexes, I suppose." She looked at him until he met her gaze. "Sorry, Jackson." That earned her a small, lopsided grin and an eye-roll, which she acknowledged with a shrug. _Another entire conversation without actually _having_ the conversation …_

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Lisa gradually returned to reality – the reality of smacking gunfire in the distance. She glanced around; they were in a forest on the other side of a dirt road. "Is Whitley going to pick us up here or …?"

"Not an option, Leese." Did she detect the hint of an apology? "Whitley 'picking us up' means I can kiss my freedom good-bye."

"O-okay … um … I'll wait here and you … you go ahead and do whatever …"

"Not an option, either." Jackson pulled out a map. "Here's our ticket – we find a car, I drop you off at a safe place, end of mission, much rejoicing. That sound alright?"

"Don't ask me like I have a choice."

To describe his expression as 'smug' would have been the understatement of the month. "It's settled then."

They lapsed back into silence, both marching on with determination, but the notion that fueled her strides didn't seem to reach Lisa's heart. Despite her best efforts, she just couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom, of evil spirits that haunted their every step, and on a whim, she brushed Jackson's jacket, desperate to make sure he was real, that she wasn't alone on this grueling journey.

"You know, Leese," his voice chased off the ghosts, "at one point I was about ready to give up."

"Why?" _Please keep talking._

"After the initial skirmish, Whitley and I managed to enter the house in search of you. Once inside, the whole thing quickly turned into a veritable case of FHINT, with Forbish's guys swarming us from every direction." Snickering at her confusion, Jackson clarified. "Fucking Hell, I'm In Trouble. Anyway, we suspected you were kept in the basement area, but Forbish must have predicted we'd try there, because he had the door blocked from the inside – with a damn table, no less – which meant we had to go back all the way. Close call … I wasn't completely positive we'd make it."

_Oops._ Lisa choked out a low "I'm glad you did."

"So am I, so am I. What about you? How did you and Cherry get out?"

Lisa told him, carefully avoiding the part with the heavy, wooden table. Her narrative was driven by anger, shame and reaming guilt, the pictures of Grey and Navy's death flaming before her mind's eye. Reluctant at first, the words soon broke the dam she had erected around her memories; Lisa's fear to drown in the flood made her cling on to Jackson who listened with calm interest. There was a strange comfort in his particular presence, in the fleeting shadows of mutual recognition passing between the two of them, and Lisa realized it actually brought her peace. Only when she finished her story did she notice that they had stopped walking. Lisa found herself leaning against a tree, staring down onto the grass and onto Jackson's feet, which nearly touched her own. One of them was tapping lightly as he spoke.

"You did what you had to do to survive under difficult circumstances, no use beating yourself up about it." The tapping ceased. "Doesn't make you a bad person."

"How very sickly sweet." Forbish's appearance instantly and violently wrecked their moment. "Drop your weapons."

Shivering with fear, Lisa was unable to move a single muscle, her attention firmly glued to the black barrel which – at present - was pointing right at her. _Me?_

"Your gun, Ms. Reisert." When she discarded it, Forbish raised a brow. "Or should I rather say, 'your guns'?" She let another one fall to the floor. "I admire your quick wit, Ms. Reisert, but do not force me to shoot you in the knee."

Suppressing a sob, she pulled the last one out of the back pocket of her pants and dropped it. Forbish nodded.

"Your offer, Colin?" Jackson seemed only minimally disturbed.

"My offer?" Forbish barked a laugh. "You _offer_ no resistance and I kill you fast."

"What would we be resisting?"

"Don't play the fool, Jackson, it doesn't suit you."

"Wasting precious time here, Colin. It won't be long until your goons start yapping to the government monkeys that you're missing. I haven't given them any of your files, so I suggest you start running right about now."

"And you will keep those files under wrap? I'll be a non-issue?"

Jackson shrugged. "If that's our deal."

"Bullshit, boy." Forbish's harsh tone grew edgy. "Don't try to mess with me, it was _me_ who made you. I taught you everything you know."

"And I appreciate that, which is why your files are safe." Jackson's face displayed an odd mixture of regret, eagerness and loathing. "Now leave before it's too late."

"You got it all wrong, Jackson. The only ones skidding towards the deadline are you and poor Ms. Reisert." He turned to Lisa. "Nothing personal, you understand."

"Ignore her, this is a business transaction between you and me."

"Step away from your weapons." Forbish beckoned them with his Beretta. "Easy, easy, easy. Don't get cute."

They did as told. Lisa frantically sought for an out, for an escape from this mess. Instinctively, her hands gripped the rough bark scraping her back as she slinked away from the tree, ripping off a rather large piece which she hid from Forbish. _Never say never, it might come in useful._ Jackson stayed close to her.

"The files," Forbish demanded.

Jackson straightened the collar of his jacket. "What if I don't have them?"

"Right," Forbish snorted, exuding an air of unmitigated anger. "The files, Jackson - I want them, you have them, you give them to me. End of story."

"What kind of ending, Colin? Happy or sad?"

Forbish's skin turned a vivid shade of pink and Lisa curled her toes in exasperation. What the hell was Jackson trying to do here? No sooner had she sunk her teeth into that thought that the little wheels started clicking into order. _No way is he provoking him without good reason._ _He's trying to throw him off balance._

"Annoying me won't help your cause one bit." Forbish glared at Jackson as he approached; Lisa could almost taste the danger emanating from him.

Jackson fired off a series of cutting remarks in response. Lisa's breath hitched in her throat at the image of these two predators circling each other in a careful dance with the sole intention to destroy. She refrained from joining them; instead, Lisa attempted to become one with her surroundings, to fade out of their attention – and it worked. Ruthlessly banning all if's and but's, she waited for the right opportunity.

"It's really simple, Jackson. Follow my orders or suffer the consequences," Forbish hissed, clearly at the end of his patience and clearly focused on his former student.

Lisa threatened to start wobbling from nervous excitement. _This is it._ She flung the piece of bark into the woods, screeching like a banshee. "Whitley! Over here!"

In the end, what it boiled down to was a match of 'young against old'. Both men flinched, both men whirled into the direction of the cracking noise and both men realized it was a fluke in the very same moment, yet Forbish's reflexes kicked in just the one-hundredth of a second too late. Jackson was on him in a heartbeat.

Forbish succeeded in squeezing the trigger before the Beretta flew from his grasp; the bullet missed Lisa by a hair's breadth, close enough to leave a trail of heat along her arm. Flaring anger twisted her guts and with a loud yell, Lisa launched herself into action, screaming and punching at the man who had caused her so much hurt. Not for long, though. After she had landed one particularly good hit, Forbish dealt her two quick jabs – one to the ribs and one to the shoulder – that left her at a loss for air, but with an abundance of colorful, bright spots bubbling behind fluttering lids as she stumbled backwards. Lisa's vision faltered, soon resembling a grainy black-and-white picture of two people trading blows in slow-motion. Blinking rapidly, she moaned, breaking her fall with one clumsy arm which sent out an immediate memo of agony to every single brain cell. It tainted the grainy picture a blurry crimson.

_This resembles a fight between a dog and a cat. _Forbish's stocky figure was built for strength and he used it like a tank, coming at Jackson straight-on. Jackson, on the other side, stayed on his toes and out of reach – he only moved in to strike at twice his opponent's speed, attacking him in a merciless flurry.

Lisa shuffled onto all fours, cursing the insistent trembling in her weak limbs. A horrified cry broke from her mouth when Forbish's hook slammed into the side of Jackson's head; with what appeared to be his last strength, Jackson rammed a straight fist into Forbish's solar plexus that had his ex-trainer stunned and slack-jawed, crashing to the floor almost on top of her. Lisa's fingers tightened around a rock and she hurled it at his face, registering the crunching sound with grim satisfaction. _This one's for Cherry._ Forbish grunted, then his eyes shifted to the left; Lisa shuddered as she followed his line of sight and detected one of the lost guns. She kicked at Forbish with all her might, scrambling forward in a panic until she covered the cold, hard steel with her palm. Someone yanked her back and around.

Forbish had one hand on her leg and one hand on another Beretta, but Lisa's position gave her the necessary advantage - her weapon ready, trained on his body, while his was dangling from his grip, obviously scooped up just an instant ago. It was the sentiment in his frozen gaze that finally set her off for good … no fear there, merely astonishment and a great deal of irritation. These things weren't supposed to happen to the mighty Colin Forbish, _he_ was supposed to happen to other people. The message 'you are a nothing' sizzled from his dilated pupils as he assessed her coldly.

"How does it feel?" Her voice sounded alien even to her. "How does it _feel_, Forbish?"

"What do you expect me to say to that, Ms. Reisert?" Ah, ever the talking snake.

"Nothing." Lisa lifted the pistol further up, aiming at his neck. "It doesn't matter anymore … this nightmare ends now in the only way it can."

Years later, what she would remember most of this particular moment was the overwhelming sense of dread, the dawning realization that it didn't really take much to cross the line, only the almost imperceptible flexing of one's finger on a trigger. And the creeping premonition that crossing the line would forever change one's life.

"Leese!"

Several things happened simultaneously:

Jackson materialized out of nowhere, his clothes torn and bloody, gun in his hand. Lisa was shoved aside and toppled over, instinctively issuing a round of ammunition which ricocheted off a small stone formation. Forbish smelt a chance; he did manage to jerk up his own weapon before Jackson's slugs splattered his head.

Lisa huddled into a tight, quivering ball. _It's done, it's over._ Any expectations she might ever have had of this precise juncture simply pulverized as an unrelenting maelstrom of fragmented memories swept her away. _Better hold on to something or you'll drown._ Her subconscious honed in on a distant flicker and Lisa treaded murky waters to trace down its source. "W-why, Jackson?"

"Why what, Leese?" He dropped the shredded remains of his jacket.

"Why … didn't you let me?" Did that hoarse whisper really belong to her? "Why risk it? You know I could have … could have killed him."

"Yeah, I know." Jackson cleared his throat. "I just didn't _want_ you to do it."

There was her buoy and Lisa grasped it, fearing it all the same. Her mouth formed a perfect O, snapped shut, gaped again. _Who are you, Jackson? Who could you be? _

He regarded her placidly. "I could give you a sob story, Leese, but the truth is, I am what I am. And at the proverbial crossroads, I made that _one_ crucial decision. That was it, that was me switching over to the dark side, eyes wide open." Jackson turned away from her. "I never once looked back."

Lisa needed to understand and even more so, she needed to prove herself right. The sting of doubt had crippled her long enough; it was time to rip it out. "When you look back now, what do you see?"

"A corpse, a very expensive, ruined jacket and you. Beautiful imagery, isn't it?"

"Stop it, Jackson, be honest with me."

Jackson sucked in his cheeks, brushed a hand through his hair. "Honestly?" He frowned, chasing the flies off Forbish with the tip of his shoe. "I'm not really sure."

"I guess that's okay. Maybe it's not looking back that's -"

"You're gonna quote good old Henrietta at me, correct?" He seemed almost hypnotized by the dead body of his former teacher. "Still hanging on to that?"

"I try, yeah."

Lisa briefly nudged Jackson's wrist as she passed him by. With every lonely step deeper into the forest, the iron ring around her chest grew tighter, yet she kept trudging on, determined to follow her own advice.

And when she finally heard him come after her, Lisa allowed herself a little smile.


	40. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Author's note:** Oh dear, here it is - the last full chapter (epilogue will be up next week). I'm REALLY nervous about it, too, so without further ado ...

**Chapter 40**

"I'm … I'm sure my family's worried about me."

Without breaking his stride, Jackson unceremoniously punched a few keys on his cell. "That should take care of it."

"'That should take care of it'? Couldn't you call Whitley? Let me talk to him?"

"Leese, I'm hurt, I'm tired, I'm working." He put his phone away. "And I'm not quite in the mood for another round of Jackson Justifies Himself." Jackson smirked. "It's a widely popular game, especially with Whitley. The man's got issues."

"Well, it takes one to kn-"

"Ah, the wittiness continues. You see, whenever I have been stabbed … or shot at … or beaten up and you are the reason, I just lean back, smiling to myself, because what _really_ makes it worth it all are your oh so delightful, charming replies."

"May I gently remind you," Lisa flicked at him, "that _you_ were the one who asked for my participation in this mission?"

"No, what I asked for was 'Cut her vocal cords and send her over'. Nobody listened."

"You poor thing, you." Humming softly, Lisa tugged at the bandage on her shoulder.

With a rather dramatic pout, Jackson fingered the bruises on his head and feigned a limp. "Thanks."

It was their first exchange in about an hour since they had left the site of Forbish's death. For the most part, Jackson had stalked through the woods, almost as if he wanted to punish the ground at his feet for whatever was haunting him. Trying to keep up in more ways than one, Lisa had tripped and fallen, momentarily spellbound to the feeling of loneliness that was gnawing at her heart. She could have sworn he was cursing her under his breath when he pulled her up; too exhausted to build any walls, Lisa had met his glare openly, wishing Jackson could let it go. The change in him had been subtle, but permanent. Instead of charging ahead, he had gradually slowed down until they were walking side by side again, soon sharing the same rhythm once more. And eventually, the onerous clouds had drifted away.

-----------

Jackson consulted the map. "In about fifteen minutes we'll reach a little town."

"What exactly will we do there? Steal a car? What about Whitley? Won't he keep the roads under surveillance? Police checkpoints, whatever." Lisa fiddled with her hair, a myriad of worries wrestling in her mind. "He definitely wants you back in custody."

Something about his dismissive shrug was a little off. "Consider yourself kidnapped."

"No one's gonna buy that, Jackson."

"Pray tell, why not?" How well she remembered _that_ tone.

"I'm not stupid, Jackson," Lisa glowered. "You and your darling files were valuable enough for Keefe and Whitley to pursue the deal, regardless." Her voice softened. "The rescue operation was a bonus – they couldn't have forced you into it against your own wishes. Whitley's never going to believe you'd be willing to hurt me now."

Without a doubt, Jackson was shocked – her keen insight, the sentiment itself … maybe a combination of the two. Without a doubt, it made him uncomfortable. "Got me all figured out, Leese?" What the cape was to Batman, sarcasm was to Jackson; he could cloak himself at the drop of a hat.

"Jesus, _relax_! What I meant -"

"You're right." Her surprise must have shown; Jackson raised his eyes to the sky in what she perceived as a desperate plea for divine help with this vexatious woman. Lisa simply itched to make a joke about how he might want to look down, actually, then reconsidered. "I'll give you that, okay? Don't push it, Leese."

"I don't even _want_ to push it!" Sternly reminding herself of the olive branch he had just extended, Lisa added, "I was only worried for … I was worried, that's all."

Jackson nodded slowly as a small grin slithered across his lips. "Who would have thought, huh?" His teasing words put them both on the spot and he knew it; Lisa couldn't help but envy him for his ease or rather, his ability to appear at ease with it. "However, in all likelihood Whitley's far too busy at the moment to organize a full search for me, so I suggest we stick to the plan – find a car and get out of here."

Lisa giggled at the 'find' in 'find a car' and carefully followed him down the slope. "What about Cherry?"

"She's a capable woman – and she's armed." Jackson helped her across a slippery patch of leaves. "Were I a gambling man, I'd bet you a lot of money that she's already gone. By the way," he handed her a small disk, "give this to Whitley."

"The Forbish files." Lisa briefly contemplated the shiny little thing before she shoved it into the side pocket of her pants, suppressing the overwhelming urge to spit on it.

They didn't talk any more until they had reached their destination. For once, Lady Luck decided to treat them kindly as they crept around the town's outskirts; a family had packed up for what was clearly a weekend trip, providing them access to an empty house and – more importantly – access to a car which would not be missed for at least another two days. An hour later, Lisa and Jackson were showered, dressed and comfortable in a snug, red Subaru, listening to the radio.

His stubborn muteness eroded Lisa's patience by the minute. "Where are we going?"

Jackson toyed with the fluffy dice dangling from the mirror. "A safe house. Last one."

"Where exactly?"

"Leese …"

"Nuh-uh, Jackson," Lisa bristled at him. "You owe me -"

"I _owe_ you?" He snorted, tossing the dice onto the backseat. "I saved your life."

"And I yours, let's not forget about that."

"You also tried to stab me … to shoot me ..."

"Alright, if we're gonna go down that road, I'll throw in our entire first encounter."

No reply. Taking a left turn, Jackson suddenly cracked up. "Call it even?"

It made her laugh. "So?"

"So what?"

"Where. Are. We. Going? And don't you dare answer that with 'A safe house. Last one.' or I'll clock you, I swear."

That made him laugh and for a moment, Lisa was amazed at how much fun she had. "Norfolk area. It's on the beach." His exaggerated sigh mocked her. "There, happy?"

"Why yes, thank you," she quipped, beaming at him. "Okay, was that so hard?"

Jackson shot her a quick smile that didn't quite disguise the warning underneath. Then again, it was probably not meant to, either. "I am more than confident I can dig up a couple of questions that'll make _you_ uncomfortable. Wanna play?"

Fun or no fun, Lisa felt weary to push the envelope any further. Their easy banter, their harmless jibes at a common history, had carried her closer to the surface, granting her a glimpse at a different Lisa. Too serious for too long, the weight of her past had worn her threadbare. Why not choose laughter over battle for a change?

_The beach._ How fitting that her journey should end there.

"A penny for your thoughts."

Her attempt to crack a joke fell flat at the sight of Jackson's encouraging expression. Lisa leaned against the head rest, drawing a deep breath which she held in her lungs as long as she could, and told him. She told him about how it was to be made a victim, about the agony of being trapped in the undertow of one's own memories, about how despite of – or because of? - all her struggles, the current would always threaten to suck her down. There were neither sobs nor accusations, only her curiously steady voice and the oddest sensation that somehow, she was making peace with it. She was making peace with _him_. No longer the man she had met at the TexMex, he had also come a long way from the violent stranger who had tormented her this eternity ago.

They stopped at a railroad crossing and a passing freighter gently rocked their car. Opinions about Jackson Rippner varied wildly, but one thing he was not – a coward. The moving spectacle outside the window provided the perfect excuse not to meet her gaze; still, he kept his attention firmly on her, having twisted in his seat to face her straight-on. Making no effort whatsoever to justify his actions, Jackson calmly listened to her story and, Lisa was sure of it, he genuinely tried to understand.

After the last words had left her mouth, her heart, Lisa tore herself away from the blue vortex of his stare, rescued by the clear chime of the bell.

Jackson lightly brushed her shoulder, secured a bandage that needed no securing. "The ocean is a big, scary place, Leese, give yourself some credit – you're a better swimmer than most." He waited until she peered at him before he took away his hand; a shadow of amusement glossed his eyes. "Trust me, I'm a shark. I know."

Lisa guffawed. "That's an unusual compliment."

"A compliment nonetheless. Look, I can't undo any of these things. And any promise that what happened might never come back to hurt you," Jackson exhaled slowly, "would be a lie. In all honesty, Leese, I wish I could promise, but I can't."

There it was. Lisa bit down hard on her lip, drawing blood. Jackson dropped something silver into her lap and she examined it through a sheer curtain of tears.

"If, for some reason, the shit hits the fan, you hightail it to Credit Suisse International in Miami. This key opens safe deposit box number 350942. Repeat."

_What?_ "350942."

"It's safe to assume the Sarah Maria Lake alias has gone bust, so I have arranged another identity for you." Jackson shifted from Park to Drive. "You'll find all necessary ID, as well as some cash and credit cards. Also, directions to -"

"To you?"

The short, heavy silence was humming with unspoken truths. "I haven't made up my mind about that yet." Jackson stepped on the gas and the car rolled across the tracks with a soft _thump-thump-thump-thump_. "You will find directions on how to leave the country, what to do. And keep that deposit box a secret, Leese."

"I will."

"I'm serious. Never talk to anyone about it – not to your family, friends, especially to no one with a badge. This is your life insurance, your sole means of escape from danger. Not a single soul except us can be aware of that identity. You hear me?"

It wasn't so much what he said, but what he didn't say. _I_ _accept, Jackson._ "Yes."

Lisa watched Jackson's pulse throb in the vein on his temple. "Good." He relaxed visibly, fingers tracing the rumpled leather of the steering wheel. "Good."

They each tackled their own dilemmas after that. Lisa determined she would never make a decent spy, because even though the outside world was right there, she was unable to focus on it, nor did she care. A dull numbness blunted the inner turmoil of hope, relief, longing and the occasional, inexplicable pang of regret throwing a party in her guts. She slumped into her seat in a hazy trance that lasted for hours and only ended when, long past midnight, they finally arrived at their destination.

'A safe house', he had called it. In reality, it merely shaped up to a half-desolate safe _hut_ on a lonely stretch of beach. The sour, salty tang of the sea had penetrated every inch, every fiber, stirring a faint headache as soon as Lisa entered the gloomy room through a chipped old door. Jackson pointed at a single bed in the corner.

"In case you're sleepy." Jackson shrugged, dimples forming in his cheeks. "I'm afraid I'm a little short on girly bedding details. Can you live without throw pillows?"

Lisa tentatively poked the mattress; it was hard and damp. "Where are you …?"

"I need to take care of some things first. Afterwards we'll see."

She stole a sidelong glance at him from underneath lowered lashes. Jackson stood upright, alert, yet he had an air of exhaustion about him, smacking of the same kind of steely resolve Lisa remembered from her own days in competitive sports. _The home stretch for you, isn't it?_ Pity came knocking. "There's room for two," she blurted out. The incredulous twitch of his brows made her face prickle with embarrassment; Lisa's fingers absentmindedly touched the scar underneath her shirt as she mimicked a laugh. "Hey, no worries about my virtue, Jackson, it's been ta-"

In a flash Jackson had clamped his hand around hers, yanking it down so forcefully, Lisa tumbled two hurried steps towards him to regain her balance. "That's a stupid joke," he hissed, lightening crackling in his voice. For a panicked second she feared he might push her, but Jackson released her at once, letting go of her wrist very much like one would fling away a bucket of radioactive waste. "Don't you _ever_, Leese … not with me, you got that? You … damnit, Leese." He stomped out to the car.

Lisa sat down on the bed whose rusty springs creaked dismally in response; part of her wanted to check for smoking holes his furious glare had burnt into her skin. _What happened?_ Unfortunately, the answer to that question would certainly not materialize in here. With a hollow, shaky breath, Lisa hauled herself up just as Jackson returned, slammed the door and bridged the distance between them in long, angry strides. His posture was chillingly tense, contempt working his jaw muscles.

"I'm sorry," they both ground out at the same time. The atmosphere shifted.

"Thanks for the offer." A thin layer of control kept whatever was still raging within from bursting free. "Go to sleep, you're tired and you're not thinking straight."

"Listen, I didn't mean to …" God, this was difficult. "I know you're not …"

"Do you now?"

"Give me a break, Jackson, okay?" Lisa rubbed at a non-existent stain on her palm. "It's hard to … be nice to you. Yes, the joke may have been stupid, fine, I'll admit to that. Either way, it _was_ a joke and you overreacted. In quite the scary manner."

"Point taken." A glint of honest sympathy in Jackson's tone – sometimes she hated how he could see right through her - and then back on the relentless hunt in the frame of an instant. "Frankly, it annoys me to no end that you seem to continue belittling yourself for something that wasn't your fault to begin with. Despite how old it's getting," he chided her, "I'm used to your reluctance as far as I am concerned. Still, that whole self-deprecating horse-and-pony-show pisses me off."

Lisa squared her shoulders. "_That_ hurt."

Jackson's dismissive head tilt spelled out something along the lines of 'an eye for an eye, Leese'. "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." He snickered, goading her on. "Where's that quote from?"

Without a moment's hesitation, she spoke up. "The Princess Bride. Ha!"

"Thatta girl." If asked, Lisa would probably pick this one as her favorite facial expression of his. Jackson's grin was a bit on the sly side, still a tad too shrewd to be strictly boyish, though clearly pleased with her and highly contagious; she had seen much of it lately. Born a charmer, indeed. "Your prize: a cozy blanket from the car."

Fifteen minutes later, Lisa curled up on the mattress, observing Jackson through the window as he talked animatedly on his cell. His body language was a far cry from a sweet lullaby, yet she felt her lids droop, felt the exhaustion loosen her limbs one by one, cradled by the notion of safety in his presence. Soon, Lisa was asleep.

She awoke to the low murmur of whispered words into her hair.

"… still owe you an answer, Leese, and I always settle my debts. You once asked me why I got you involved in the first place."

So now it was her turn to accept his story without comment. Lisa maneuvered and adjusted herself against the wall; Jackson lay close, very close, but she didn't mind. There was no telling whether he felt surprise or mirth at finding her awake. Lisa let herself be witnessed through his eyes, listened to him describe their first meeting in Keefe's prison all the way to her indignant demands before she had complied.

"Oh, I hadn't forgotten that you were a bitch, only what a _magnificent_ bitch you were. And you're totally clueless about it. What I told you then was true – I had wanted to see you so I could put something behind me. It panned out differently than I had planned … a common occurrence around you. Instead of revealing you as a fluke, a mere one-hit-wonder, it advertised the fact that maybe you were not."

Jackson steadily held her gaze as he continued. "I didn't believe it. Didn't _want_ to believe it. To cut to the chase, I'll put it candidly: what started as an attempt to prove that you weren't up to the task, that you would break, turned into a quest to prove that you made a worthy adversary. Worthy enough for having beaten me in our initial sparring match fair and square. Of course, things never are that simple with you. You're a challenge, Leese, a challenge by sheer fucking existence. It drove me crazy … and sparked my curiosity." He chuckled, a dry sound grating with reluctant approval. "Before you inquire as to the when and how of that particular issue, I'll let you in on a little secret: sometimes even I don't have all the answers. I'm pretty sure you're ecstatic to learn that I haven't ceased to be … curious."

The fraction of an inch short of touching the fabric of his stolen shirt, Lisa hesitated. "Smartass." Fingertips carefully grazing soft cotton. "You know I am."

Whatever she had expected, it most definitely wasn't this – Jackson pulled back, fast, almost as if she were a hazard to him; the mattress squealed as he got up. Disappointment strangled the heartbeat hammering in the base of her throat and Lisa stiffly stalked over to the window where she massaged her drowsy muscles in jerky circles. _Leave. Rid yourself of me, so you can finally stop being … 'curious'. _Suddenly his body was right behind her, chest pressed into her back, a vehement grip digging into the soft flesh of her upper arms. Jackson breathed into her neck.

"Should you ever need me, Leese, use the key and you'll find me. I promise."

All she could do was blink the tears away.

All she could do was shiver from the cold after he had released her – unwillingly, that much Lisa realized. A boat approached, its shape wavering against the greyish pre-dawn sky, an eerie apparition forming out of the billowing wafts of rolling fog. Jackson straightened and put something in her hand. His phone. Was her skin as cool as his? Had she imagined the weightless brush of his lips along her temple? Could she not look at him at all? The sharp click of the closing door thundered in her ears.

Lisa watched him cross the planks to the boat, followed his every move from afar. Her legs carried her outside, sand crunching underneath the soles of her feet.

Had this been a romance novel, the sun would have come up this very instant, bathing them and the sea in the bright hope of a new day. Jackson would have smiled – and what a smile he had, radiant, mischievous - and she would have cried.

But it wasn't like that.

Lisa winced at the greedy, freezing water lapping at her toes as she stepped forward, drawn to his lonely figure leaning against the railing. They locked eyes for one infinite second, then the morning mist swallowed him up and Jackson was gone.

"Good luck!"

Too late; he couldn't have heard her.

A dim awareness thickened her blood. It idly crawled through her veins, into her chest, where it stayed until her heart spilled over, thudding with pounding sadness.

_Good luck, Jackson._

Lisa turned and mechanically treaded back to the house. Time to call her dad.


	41. Chapter 41

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Epilogue**

He sits at his desk under the fan in a hot, humid little country which has no extradition treaty with the USA, although that's a mere formality - if they want you bad enough, they'll come get you. Assuming they can find you, of course. Checking this month's income, his eyes narrow slightly at the figures; bloody hell, mainstreaming sure pays a shitty salary. Well, compared to what he used to earn, anyway.

In a strictly legal sense, his current job is on the good side of the fence. He works as an independent contractor dealing in information slash consultation for medium to large-sized, international corporations. Some people might call his projects a bit iffy, ethics-wise, he prefers to call them 'special'. Over the last couple of months during which he has made a good name for himself, the assignments have become increasingly … interesting. More special. He double-clicks a mail in his inbox, even though at this point, he knows the offer by heart. He knows what it entails, what it could start. He knows, because a long time ago, he had chosen that very road.

Funny how the sweet taste of seduction never grows stale.

Standing up and stretching his legs – hours of research, thank you very much – he catches a glimpse of himself in the window. His hair is cut short. One of the nicer aspects of his new life is that he doesn't have to entertain the young, inconspicuous look anymore; his clients expect a quality edge from a man in his position. He can absolutely provide. A faint frown shadows his face as he studies it in the glass which has all but fogged up from the ungodly temperatures outside. He has always been a hard man and proud of it, too, yet for some reason, he has never seemed as hard as he does now. Maybe it has something to do with his memories, with the despised deficiency they tend to string along. Like the playground friend with the pesky baby sister that just won't shut the eff up. Eh, what a steaming pile of … psychobabble.

The word triggers a particular batch of memories, one of the few he actually enjoys.

He briskly walks into the pristine living room and plops down onto the large, beige couch. Everything is beige. He once tried to instill the bland beigeness – is that a word? – with a bit of a personal touch; the dejected dwarf of a ficus with its brown, curled up leaves serves as a constant reminder that, quite obviously, he was not ready yet. An amused little smile sneaks into the corners of his mouth. _Assassination Managers Anonymous – Your Twelve Step Program to Lasting Humanity._ Step One: Quickly Flee to Safety. Check. Step Two: Avoid Killing If At All Possible. Check. Step Three: Find Your Footing. Check. Step Four: Nurture a Houseplant. Drat.

Impulsively, his hands dig around for a certain file underneath the thick, cozy cushion. Yesterday, he has shoved it under there in a sudden fit; before that, it has been tossed into the trash, spent a fair amount of time in his closet, idled next to the shredder for weeks, loitered his kitchen … in fact, it may have seen every place in this house, invariably beckoning him back with a scarlet finger. He can't get rid of it. He simply can't _not_ browse through it. He tells himself that one day, he won't feel these pangs anymore. He also tells himself that he keeps it around solely to monitor his progress. Another little smile, only more of the grim variety. That's what you get for going legit – you start lying to yourself. He pours himself a tall, stiff drink.

The paper is slightly crumpled, result of a restless night spent in anger a long while ago. A nice, hearty sip and alleviating heat burns down his throat, then up into his brain, spreading the happy. Cherry's unflappable. She, too, has left the country, but continues to maintain a loose, careful contact to her closest, most trusted associates. Incidentally, that includes him. There is a meticulous emergency procedure they have cooked up together years ago, cocky enough to believe they'd never need it, still professional enough to plan it. Now they profit from it. Cherry proved invaluable when he first built his new business and he honestly appreciates their occasional exchanges. She teases him often, dubbing him her 'blue Nine-to-Fiver' which he counters with 'you ditzy gangster's moll'. She has married her long-time boyfriend, a crisp lawyer with mobster ties, and resides somewhere on the old continent.

Cherry's first message after the wipe-out hit him with the force of an ultrasonic blast.

_I'm fine. Rhiannon is fine (stay away from her).  
__Be careful!  
__Your favorite fruit._

'Rhiannon Mac'. The sound of his dismissive grunt bounces off the naked walls; Cherry picked that name and he's not very fond of it. A weary sigh escapes, then he surrenders, relaxing into the fluffy softness as he pulls out the notes, the pictures.

_Rhiannon is fine (stay away from her)._

He has already gone over it a million times in his mind. What happened, happened; he took the best course of action at any given moment. Regarding the things that didn't happen … that can't be changed. Although he sometimes wishes he could.

Right. Sometimes.

He grimaces and decides to politely decline the offer in his inbox.

Curiosity might not actually kill this cat, but it doesn't buy a lot of nice suits, either. At least not yet ... who is to say it never can? A lazy, content smirk emerges; he loves a good challenge.

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THE END.

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**_Author's note:_**

_Would you please excuse me while I break out the champagne. Who wants a glass? And don't mind me sobbing, that's just post partum depression, I guess. _

_Well, this is it, this is the end of From Bottom To Surface. Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews, feedback and encouragement throughout this, uh, very long story - you guys have been incredibly kind to me. A special thanks to Royalty09 for her helpful advice and patience, as well as to First Noelle and emptyvoices. _

_Oh, and there's an obscure music reference in the epilogue, let's see who gets it._


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